
)^B 




Book --J ^^^ ■ 



^ 



^^ 



7 



POEMS, 



MORAL AND INTELLECTUAL, 



BY 

JOSEPH RICHARDSON PARKE. 



Well I remem'ber, in my boyish days. 

How deep the feeling when my eye look'd forth 

On nature, in her loveliness and storms. 

J. G. Percivai,. 



PUBLISHED BY 

E. B. SM.ITH & CO 

DETROIT. 



1877 






14-30 



TO 
THE AUTHOR'S DEAR FRIEND AND COMPANION, 

ME. GEO. KITCHIE, 

Quetn's University, Kingston, Canada, 

THIS LITTLE VOLUME, 

PRODUCED AMID THE CARES AND FATIGUES OF AN" ALMOST CONSTANT OCCUPATION, 

DESTITUTE OF THAT LOFTY ORNAMENTATION OF LEARNING AND MENTAL ACUMEN 

BEST CALCULATED TO BEGET A FAVORABLE REGARD IN AN AGE DEVOTED AS 

MUCH TO THE SUBTILIZATION OF THE WIT AS THE CULTURE OF 

ARTS AND LETTERS ;.UNENRICHED WITH THE INCIDENTS OF 

FOREJGN TRAVEL, OR EXTENSIVE OBSERVATION, AND 

PUBLISHED ONLY AT THE TOO SANGUINE 

SOLICITATION OF FRIENDS, 

IS DEDICATED. 

',' ' *' *- *■ '■ct Vc f , t c « c « 



f 



R E F A C E 



The author of " Poetical Blossoms " says, " It is a nice and 
hard subject for a man to write of himself; it grates his own 
heart to say anything of disparagement ; and the reader's ears to 
hear anything of praise from him ;" nor will I, for the mere sake 
of disclosing to the world what the world cares nothing at all 
about, offend either the reader's ears or my own heart, with the 
usual practice of appending six or eight pages of self- written 
prolegomena; but in giving my little volume to the public, — a 
thing unthought of at the time of its production, — I do so with a 
clear conviction that it will "speak of me as I am;" and that 
the good sense of the reader will none the less readily discern 
between the certain faults, and the possible merits, because it is 
thrust into his presence without the formality of an introduction 
to its author. 

This poetical essay I have made, not with the hope that the 
learned and wise will obtain any commodity therefrom, but that my 
subject and design may escape the harsher criticism of men ; for 
though I fail in pleasing the fancy, I at least have aimed to 
profit the mind, and not robbed the community thereby ; and " if 
a man shall say to his father or mother. It is Corban, (that is to 
say a gift) by whatsoever thou may est be jDrofited by me, he shall 
BE FREE." (Mark vii., 11.) How much less, then, should I be im- 
puted to censure, when I say it is minchab, or the lesser gift, and 
hand my offering to the public without extenuation upon the recti- 
tude of my endeavor. 

J. R. P. 



p 



O NTE NTS 



Didactic. 

PAGE. 

Progress of Reform 7 

The Virtues, — a Monologue 32 

Book I. Faith 32 

II. Hope il 

III. Charity 4G 

Caroling to the Night 51 

Visions of the Night 58 

Narrative. 

The Lords of the Allodium .^ 67 

Canto I. The Stranger's Story 69 

II. The Hunter's Stor>' 77 

III. Omeme 118 

Dreams of the Siesta. 

Easter Hymn 121 

Momento Morientur 122 

Retrospection 123 

Beyond the Blue Arch 124 

Wisdom 125 

Donaconna 126 

O Lovely Land 127 

Paraphrase of Job IX 129 

Ode to the St. Lawrence 130 

Greece 131 

Incident of the Battle of Richmond 133 

Providence 134 

Domestic Discord 135 

The Erring Shaft 136 

Midnight Address to the Manes 138 

The Frailty of Man's State 140 

The Invocation 141 

You Naughty Girls 142 

The Pruning of the Vines 143 

Ode to Con tentment 145 

In Hoc Signo Vinces 146 

Afar in the West 147 

The Marriage of the Season 147 

The Solemnity of Solitude 149 



CONTENTS. 

PAGE. 

Memories of the Past 150 

A Winter Evening 152 

The Maple's Lament 155 

New Year's Day 156 

My Soul is Sorrowful 158 

To Miss 159 

Seek Ye the Lord 160 

Rest, Brother, Rest IHl 

Written in Miss Engelchurch's Album 162 

On the Death of a Child 163 

Condolatory Lines Ifj-t 

Rural Retirement 7's. Citicism l'o5 

Sonnet 166 

The Kraken 167 

Wisdom is the Principal Thing 168 

Ull-Erin 168 

Curtius' Valediction to the Romans 169 

The Passage of the River 170 

The Illusion of Earthly Pleasures Illustrated 172 

Death of the Old Year 173 

The Battle of Cassova 175 

Meditations on Christmas Eve 179 

Hymn of Reliance on Providence 181 

A Prayer 182 

The Mysteries of the Soul 183 

Oina Moral 181 

Isabel 185 

The Maid of Inis-Thona 186 

Death, a Vision 187 

Poesy 188 

Ode to the Spirits of Passion 1^9 

Madness 190 

To a Star Falling 191 

A Simile 192 

Nevermore — a Dirge 192 

The Haunting Shadow 193 

Inscription for the tomb of Geo. Grice, Esq 194 

Morning Soliloquy 195 

The Question Ecumenical 195 

Song of Asaph, the Seer 199 

The Voyage 200 

Sweet was thy Voice by the Fall of the Waters 201 

Song for New Year's Eve 202 

All the World's a Stage 203 

Afloat on the Sea 206 

Autumn 208 



Pl^OGRESS OF ReFOR^, 



Of man's miraculous mistakes this bears 
The palm — that all men are about to live, 
Forever on the brink of being born. 

Edward Young — Night Thoughts 



Immortal Essence ! permeating Ray ! 

That light'st this temple of prolong'd decay : 

Degraded spark of high emprise, 

Fallen like a meteor from celestial skies 

To glimmer darkly in a heaven of sighs. 

Thou pure conceived, but soon perverted child, 

On whom the sister angels smil'd, 

Thou whose abash'd and sin-infected face 

Forever blushes with its first disgrace, 

Beneath the all-consuming flame 

Of stern remorse, and cowering shame 

That fills the room of social fame. 

The current of self-conscious guilt, 

That drowns whatever itself hath built ; 

And, o'er the wreck of pleasure, rears 

The bitter hope of fleeting years. 

Gathering down the slope of life 

Weeds of care and thorns of strife ; 

Grasping with thy longing gaze 

Peace like Ocean's false mirage. 

Sorrow for the sweets of earth, 

Pain and woe for peace and mirth, 

Life to taste the bliss of dying. 

Love to learn the art of sighing ; 

Canst thou now, O sin-enshrouded mind ! 

Fallen, fetter'd, weak, and blind, 

Canst thou resurvey the great 

Uncursed glory of thy state? 



PROGRESS OF REFORM. 

Ere needy sinews were compell'd with toil 
To sweat hard pittance from unwilling soil, 
Ere pains and sorrows did afflict our race, 
And God refuse the sunshine of His face ? 
No man is fallen ; and man's etherial mind 
Surveys no realm but that his footsteps find ; 
Except the calm, strong eye of faith 
Pierce the mists of doubt and death. 
And, like the eagle in the blaze of noon, 
Behold undaz'd the sapphire city's throne, 
Where sun, nor moon, nor silver starlight meet, 
But God's own glory lamps the golden street. 



II. 



But should the fiat of eternal Fate 

The soul of man in charity restore. 

And crown her sorrow with a loftier state, 

And sweeter bliss than e'er she knew before ; 

The angel Mercy from blest regions bow. 

And, with her incantation, purge the stain 

That brands as black man's grief-enshrouded brow, 

As mark'd the form of homocidal Cain ; 

The subtile Serpent hath not lost the spell 

That gave her knowledge with the pangs of hell; 

But, holding up before each longing eye 

The charm, he says : " Ye shall not surely die." 



III. 



Who owns the bond of nature's chain 

Must feel the force of nature's pain ; 

And when, by mortal ills distrest. 

The glaz'd and sunken eye unclos'd reveals 

The brooding anguish of the breast, 

That tranquil sleep, night's calm unruffled rest. 

And sweet oblivion steals : 

The fainting pulse almost forgets its part; 



PROGRESS OF REFORM. 

And Reason, from her ruin'd throne, 

Affrighted at herself hath flown. 

While life's warm tide grows sluggish round the heart. 

When from the mists that drape the tomb, 

Like shadows from the darkness caught, 

Ascends, with nameless terrors fraught. 

The dim and awful phantasy of doom ; 

Then retrospection summons up the past 

From life's sweet morn, so mournfully o'ercast, 

If yet the power of thought remain 

Within the dark, disordered brain, 

The soul returns to slighted truth 

And mourns the follies of her youth. 

But doubly vain, when life is done. 

To stand lamenting o'er the grave. 

From Avhich no art possess'd can save, 

Tho' earth and heaven were all her own. 

Death is the universal fate ; but how, 

Or when, or where, it falls, we must allow 

One wiser to decree ; but error's pains 

Are self-inflicted ; for tho' Heaven ordains 

The penalty, 'tis manifest and clear, 

Man's heart must fabricate its fortune here. 

And while the conqueror, in his car of flame, 

Dashes in war's terrific mood 

'Mid dying groans and seas of blood. 

Allured by all the mockery of fame ; 

And hopes, when wearied of the strife, 

To soothe his latest hour of life 

With martial coronet and heroic name. 

Our virtuous moralists engage. 

With all the sabbaoth of sin, to wage 

Unceasing warfare ; which since time 

Began, and brightest hopes of mankind fell, 

When our first prototyj)e presum'd to rebel 

Against his Author's power sublime ; 

Has sent, mid fiercest strife and storm, 

Like echo from the mountain rock 

When loosened by the tempest's shock, 

The loud but fruitless watchword of Reform. 



10 PROGRESS OF REFORM. 

IV. 

'Twas heard of Heaven in Eden's fragrant grove 

In Paran's wilderness of night ; 

And where the ministering fire of Love, 

Burn'd down from Heaven on Bochim's height. 

By Ephraim's hoary mount of old, 

In Gilead's fruitful land ; 

O'er Ashdod's emerods of gold. 

And Mispeh's Israelitish band. 

The templed shrine of Zion heard the cry 

Of Boscath's royal chief; 

And from the brook of Kidron babbling by, 

Where blind Maachah built on high 

Her sculptur'd deity, Dagon-like and deaf. 

'Twas lisped on psaltery's voice divine, 

Before the Levite king ; 

While harps of sweeter sound did fling 

Its gentle murmur round the Holy Shrine. 

Within the mother city's brazen gates, 

Is heard the bursting storm ; 

And lo ! the gray hair'd Prophet waits, 

Weeping, before the silent walls; 

While Elam's son beside him falls, 

To seal the solemn covenant of Reform. 



V. 



When ruin from the frowning skies, 

Did desolate Judea's smiling land, 

And chosen Israel turn'd her changeful eyes 

To Baal and Astaroth, daring to despise 

Their God Deliverer, puissant and grand. 

Then turn'd they for a space, 

In dust and ashes, to their better love ; 

But when the bolt had fallen from above, 

They wax'd apostate to the sweets of grace. 

And thus since Time's^advance began, 



PROGRESS OF REFORM. ll 

Forever on the rack, 

Duty awhile diverts the mind of man, 

And pleasure wins it back. 

- VI. 

And shall we murmur that Heaven's mercies fail 

O'er fair Columbia, consecrate and free? 

Sister of Art and spouse of Liberty, 

Who lifts to-day her famine-stricken wail. 

With Love and Justice chosen as their guide, 

A people servile to oppression stand ; 

Secure in fancied truth their thoughts abide. 

While monstrous Error rules the listless land. 

Illustrious lineage of a royal race ! 

Honor'd whil-ere for hardihood and grace ; 

Rearing, amid the Occidental wild, 

A fabric worthy Albion and her child. 

To you we owe, stout sons of toil, 

Frugal adventurers from the parent soil. 

The primal birthright of a nation's name ; 

And only ours her future fame. 

Yours the guerdon rich and grand, 

Accorded by the historic muse ; 

Yours all the fame proud deeds command. 

But ours the fire those deeds infuse. 

You laid the base, 'tis ours to rear the dome. 

And gild the glories of our common home. 

VII. 

Shall we then tread upon our sacred trust ; 

And those brave hearts disgrace, 

Who lifted Freedom's banner from the dust 

Before a tyrant's face? 

Shall Church and Pulpit fail before the Stage? 

Preachers displease and dramatists engage? 

Shall Doubt eclipse the struggling light 



12 PROGRESS OF REFORM. 

Of Truth divine ? or Falsehood veil its charm ? 
Shall Wrong and Error supersede the Right ? 
And shed abroad a chill, infectuous blight, 
Like to the dark discomfiture of night, 
Clouding the genial noonday of Reform ? 



VIII. 

From the harsh mountain-vallies of the North, 

To odoi;ous gardens of the sunny South, 

Our young Republic, to the World, holds forth 

Her wondrous record of a century's growth. 

When Greece and Rome are buried in decay ; 

And Gaul disowns the glories of her day : 

When conquering Prussia shall forget her power. 

And the fierce Northern Bear in weakness cower 

Within his snow-clad caverns, tame and mild, 

Where Arctic tempests drive their hissing shower 

O'er lone Sibsria's cold and trackless wild. 

When Pyramids, and Pantheon's brazen Avali, 

Fragments of grandeur into dust shall fall : 

When chivalrous Spain bequeaths her jewel'd croi 

To mouldering Royalty, shrin'd in old renown ; 

And Britain, mistress of the main, 

Forgets her plenipotence on the battle-plain. 

And to the universe no longer shows 

Her van, unbroken by a thousand foes. 

When every pillar of her senatorial pride 

Shall have decay'd as Burke and Chatham died. 

Then shall America, in lusty youth, 

vShaking her locks invincible, arise ; 

A pastoral David in defence of Truth, 

Against the godless Gathian, who defies 

To-day the fearless champion of our faith, 

Mocking his puny form ; 

But destined to oprobrious death. 

When wakes the slumbering potence of Reform. 



PROGRESS OF REFORM. 13 

IX. 

Then shall her name, emblazon'd in the scroll 

Of mighty nationhood, boast Britannia's soul ; 

Emulate her fair embellishments of art, 

And strengthen intrepidity with Virtue's part. 

Fair clime, with every blessing stor'd, 

Where Nature's choicest bounties meet, 

While infant Freedom wields her flaming sword, 

Swift shalt thou spurn the tyrants' feet. 

The charter our brave fathers gave, 

Sure safeguard of our dearest rights ; 

In patriots' heart blood ratified, shall wave, 

Sing'd with the flashes of a hundred fights. 

A nation's soul shall ever swell for thee. 

Beloved sire ! immortal Washington ! 

Whose brazen pillar is the victory 

Beneath thy banner won. 

A nation lisps with reverence thy name, 

Whose dust reposes in her urn of fame, 

Thou proud descendant of a noble line, 

O'er whom we weep, and oft rejoice ; 

Whose votarists fly to Joy or Sorrow's shrine. 

At Grief or Glory's voice. 



X. 



A nation garnished with umbrageous dress, 

Whom all the riches of abundance bless ; 

Where Nature ever wears her brightest smile, 

And where the softest sunbeams rise, 

At morn, to greet the stolid eyes 

Of man, the only vile. 

Majestic rivers, green, unbroken vales, 

And mountain peaks, where winter's blast prevails ; 

Broad, verdant plains, that smilingly invite 

Creation's sons, the loftiest and the least, 

To share unbought the lordly feast. 

Of their unshorn delight. 



14 PROGRESS OF REFORM. 

Grand are our halls of academic lore, 
^ Illustrious as e'er rose 

In Attica divine, 

Where cool Ilissus thro' green labyrinths flows, 
Or round the Delphic shrine, 
Where, to the Pythian Priestess, oft unclose 
The mystic oracles of Helle's classic shore. 
Once o'er old Parnassus' mountain. 
Clouds of deepest darkness hung ; 
And o'er Phrygia's hallowed fountain. 
Where the tuneful Sisters sung. 
Once in the Stoic philosophic school 
Of Athens, did the barbarous rod 
Of dark Idolatory's despotic rule 
Constrain the spirit to foi'sake its God ; 
For ideal glories of the Olympian throne, 
To bend in worship to the speechless stars. 
Or rear its altar to the Great Unknown, 
As on the mount of Mars. 
'Tis sad, when godly Reason sinks to sleep 
Beneath the shadows of the spirit's night ; 
But pitying angels stoop to weep, 
When apathetic slumbers steep 
The soul, illumed with fair Religion's light. 
Ours is no age of darkness, as the night 
In which the Athenian Deism took its flight 
From orb to orb, in ceaseless round — 
Seeking, in Lyceum grove or Academic bow'r. 
The mighty presence of that Nameless Pow'r, 
Believed but never found. 
We grasp God's own hereditable Word, 
Propitiously bestow'd 

On men whose hearts with inspiration glow'd, 
Uasheathing bright the Spirit's trenchant sword. 
And, while the fabric of our Union stands 
To fling its shadow o'er surrounding lands, 
Let us rejoice that not o'er fields of blood — 
From which the cypress garland springs, 
And Valor's death-cry starkly rings — 



PROGRESS OF REFORM. l6 

Shines our ascending star of nationhood. 

Industrious Art quiescent reigns, 

Unfrighted by the din of War ; 

Cities arise, and o'er our fruitful plains, 

No bleeding form is crush'd 'neath Battle's flaming car. 

And are we feeble in the midst of strength ? 

Nerveless to rise at Duty's stern demand? 

Is this broad realm throughout its breadth and length — 

Proudly unique, magnificently grand — 

The weak compages of a pamper'd land ? 

O Pilgrim Fathers! frugal and austere — 

Favored of Heaven, ensamples of great men — 

Could ye, in this Centennial year, 

In spirit forms to these your sons appear, 

Should they not rise again ? 

Rise to the noble manhood of great deeds. 

The deserted path of glory to retrace, 

Scorning the puny strife of sects and creeds 

Which disunites our race. 

Turning, with hope, to that unfailing source 

Of national prosperity and peace — 

That fountain of indomitable force — 

The calm and godly fellowship of grace 

In Mother Church ; who erst, with matchless power 

And strong defensive art, 

Performed her heavenly Primate's part, 

And gave deliverance in the darkest hour. 

Behold, she standeth in rejected love 

Waiting the summons to assist and teach, 

With her eternal precepts from above, 

Given with the Spirit's faculty of speech 

In Pentacostal shower. 

Let every heart her mediator}^ voice 

Invoke to save from that ineflfable loss 

Of Christian Faith— the soul's sublimest choice. 

And with the symbol of a conquering Cross 

Upon our banners laid. 

We'll march to victory 'neath its glorious shade, 

As once the Roman march' d, in martial pomp array' d. 



16 PROGRESS OF REFORM. 

XI. 

See yon unlearned sovereign of Content 

Beside his cottage door ; 

Far from all civic strife, abased and poor, 

The tranquil current of his life is spent, 

Nature protends the bounties of the land, 

It's wealth and beauty with a kindly smile ; 

Giving to Labor's rough and horny hand 

The rich and honest recompense of toil. 

His shoulders, brawny as the stalwart oak, 

Submissive wear their six days' yoke ; 

And on the smiling Sabbath morn. 

With heart attuned to love, 

He bends in worship to the throne above. 

And grateful thanks extol its blest return. 

He pleads for grace, and his petitions bear 

A faith unshaken in his Father's care. 

He reaps the harvest of supreme delight — 

The spirit's tranquil rest — 

And each successive Sabbath rite 

Brings richer store of gladness to his breast. 

With love to Him, whose bounties never fail, 

He meets his friend beside the altar rail. 

Where the old pastor of the simple throng — 

Feeble in frame, but in the spirit strong — 

Spreads forth the Gospel's gracious treat, 

While humble suppliants gather round 

With perfect hope of promise crown'd, 

Treading the sacred courts with reverent feet. 

To Heaven's seraphic legions rise 

Melodious songs sublime and grand, 

As swell'd, o'er Olivet, the listening skies 

When Christ ascended with His bright-wing'd band. 



XII 

)ared 
Where Fashion, rolling on the wheels o 
Enters the transept with imperious g^it 



Delightful sound, compared with city's din, 
Where Fashion, rolling on the wheels of sin, 



PROGRESS OF REFORM. 17 

Where venal seculars obsequious wait, 

Scarce half awake, to let My Lady through 

In satin flounces to her cushion'd pew. 

The organ's voice the tedious hour beguiles, 

Obedient to the sovereign will 

Of some well-paid professor's skill, 

And rolls harmonious down the fretted aisles. 

Anon some train'd and practic'd tongues 

Their light allegros bring ; 

For anthem strains and solemn breathing songB 

Might poorly please the ears for which they sing. 

With fluent oratory and high-sounding speech, 

The Apostle's charge beneath his eyes, 

The reverent coxcomb next begins to preach, 

And — filled with folly— bids men to be wis^. 

With homily from some poet's page, 

Or essayist in prose, 

Descriptive of the antelucan age, 

His smooth oration like a ballad flows. 

With touching pathos, epigram and jest, 

He oversteps the limit of his time ; 

And even assails the apathetic breast 

With borrow'd tropes, and sentences sublime. 

Nice in discernment, quick to catch a flaw, 

And captious as the Cynic crew 

Who scann'd deep doctrine with a superficial view. 

He draws false inferences from Nature's law. 

'Till in his intellectual war — 

His laboring of a shallow mind — 

He mounts imagination's car 

And leaves the substance far behind. 

But naught on earth endures for aye ; 

And now his dull harrangue is closed, 

While drowsy souls, with eyelids discomposed, 

Forth from the drama negligently stray — 

Fearing the service has invaded " tea," 

Or " that engagement with dear Mrs. B," 

Whose son, 'tis rumored, has returned from Yale — 



18 PROGRESS OF REFORM. 

A splendid " catch " for some one, smart and rich— 

" Dear Mrs. B, she looks so horrid pale— 

And Fannie snubb'd him t'other day — the witch ! " 

XIII. 

These are the solemn musings of the mind, 

As here and there the motly concourse wind ; 

'Till, thron'd at home in all the pomp of state. 

Of parlor sofas, high back'd chairs. 

Piano stools, and portraiture antique, 

Lace curtains, cats,, aristocratic airs. 

Bald crania, coifs, toupees, and ringlets eke. 

Gay fashion forms the subject of debate. 

The choir's skill — the operatic play — 

That homely couple that came in so late — 

The milliner's store— the lamentable state 

Of that new carpet, almost worn away — 

The broken sidewalk right beside the gate. 

And other current issues of the day. 

The rumor that the Spraggs have gone from town, 

Miss Morgan's marriage, or her aunt's new gown ; 

And last, a theme that all may understand. 

The sacradotal scandal of the land. 

XIV. 

Vanity of vanities, and doubly vain 

This fool trap of the mind ; 

As wind, that goetli and returns again, 

But leaves no trace behind. 

One generation passes and another comes 

To Avaste life's fitful breath, 

And fill the vacant places in our homes 

Made by the heartless decimator, Death. 

We cry, improvement is progressing fast, 

That we are grown refined — 

Those superstitious fancies long resigned 



PROGRESS OF REFORM. 19 

First nurtur'd 'mid the darkness of the past. 

That we have found a more efficient speech, 

A surer faith, a more exalted creed 

Than fortune placed within our fathers' reach — 

Whose greatest glory was the warrior's meed. 

True, we are changed, old forms have pass'd away; 

The monstrous mutability of time 

Has brought to deseutude in every clime 

The different manners of their different day. 

Her onward march Discovery pursues, 

Circling the roaring main ; 

And proud invention her vast treasure strews 

To gild her joyous reign, 

But often in the swiftest flight 

And fame of her benificent career, 

Her soul outleaps the glorious light 

Of Virtue, Heaven's Evangel in the rear. 

If in our breasts the fount of Knowledge flows 

To irrigate this fair and fruitful West ; 

If all the wealth that infant Art bestows 

Conspires to make us" blest, 

Then are we burden' d with the greater blame 

When sins apparent make that knowledge lame-; 

More than the Hindoo, whose untutor'd mind. 

With dreams of virtue, vague and undefin'd, 

Dead to the mystic oracles of grace. 

And scarce superior to the brainless brute, 

Which treads its dull and thoughtless race. 

Ignoring evil only by its fruit. 

Strange is the lot of man ; but oh ! how strange 

His proud desires ! that sweep from pole to pole ; 

Where through the darkness, like lost stars, they range 

Beyond this sunless heaven of the soul. 

The winged thoughts that, through unbounded space, 

Like wandering meteors infinitely blaze ; 

Alone, unseen, creation's realm they trace. 

And even upon God's throne presume to gaze. 

With orbit measureless as the Eternal Will, 

O'er Time's abyss all fetterless they rise, 



20 PROGRESS OF REFORM. 

Their great Creator's mandate to fulfil, 

In bearing mercy from supernal skies, 

They herald down to human ears 

The eternal wonders of the rolling spheres ; 

Or, 'mid the ruins of primeval lore, 

The feeble mewling of an infant Earth — 

The realm of doubtful dogmas they explore. 

To the blind Chance that gave Discovery birth. 



XV. 



That puny darling, in the lap of years, 

Hath groAvn to nervous stature, and her stride 

Is o'er the limit of man's hopes and fears, 

Into a vast Futurity untried. 

Hath she the lamp of virtue for her guide ? 

The sword of truth fast girdled to her side. 

To smite the ranks of error far and wide 

Down the broad stream where Science swiftly steers ? 

If no, 'twere safer to remain 

Involved in ancient gloom, 

Than barter thus for certain death and pain 

A brute's fortuitous doom. 

The softest smile and smoothest air 

Are but the masks of grief and care — 

The loveliest floral gem that glints 

In Morn's glad eye with dewy suit, 

Despite the resplendence of its tints, 

May have the noxious reptile at its root. 

Temptation now, as prior to our fall, 

Stands in the way or conies alike to all ; 

And learning's boon the least 'neath heaven 

By man should be desired — 

For, wheresoever much is given 

There much shall be required, 

Tho' oft the sumptous miser's door 

Is passed with envy by the grumbling poor. 

Plenty begrudges Poverty her joys, 



PROGRESS OF REFORM. 21 

And Poverty for plenty sighs. 

Content is sapient, to her lot resign'd— 

Ambition never gratified, Desire never satisfied, 

And fickle Lust, deformed and blind, 

Are envious of her lowly mind. 

Wisdom — reputed crown of peace — 

Is held responsible for more ; 

'Till, as the stern demands increase, 

She yearns her treasures to restore. 

Aliens are Avarice and Ease ; 

One full inspired with greed, 

Grasping at every charm she sees. 

Yet never potent to surpass her need. 

Thus discontent pervades the lot of man : 

He strives to obtain what mortals never can, 

'Till vain contention sours and curses life, 

Merging the soul in endless strife. 

When shall we learn to be content 

With whatsoe'er kind Heaven hath sent? 

When shall the seraph Truth unfold 

The magic of her charm ? 

Or her great Sire, the Paraclete of old, 

Arouse man's spirit to its last Reform ? 

XVI. 

When Rome's proud flag triumphant was unfurl'd. 

And flung its shadow o'er a conquer'd world, 

Her annals still can tell 

What virtue fed the holy flame 

That lit with glory her resplendent name, 

The victor's deathless spell. 

There senator and pelebeian, fast allied, 

Stood link'd indissolubly side by side ; 

Together stem'd the rushing tide 

Of Vandal hosts in fire and flood ; 

Together, nerved with patriot pride, 

In danger adamantine stood. 

Brave Quintas there, at Duty's call, 



22 PROGRESS OF REFORM. 

Forsook his calm secluded home, 

And bared his sword to stand or fall 

Beneath the eagle flag of Rome, 

He left untill'd his little field 

The sceptre of the State to wield ; 

Leading her iron legion band 

Against a, barbarous foe ; 

Whose bravery with trenchant brand 

He wasted at a blow, 

Only to fly from pomp and praise, 

To lead his lone sequester'd life. 

And wear, exempt from public gaze, 

The laurels won in strife. 

There was a patriot, tried and true, 

To loyalty's demand ; 

"Who from the field of victory flew 

The applauses of his land. 

Where, in this Commonwealth of ours, 

Such heroes shall we find ; 

Where, in the shadow of Columbian bowers, 

Exists so pure immaculate a mind ? 

If such there be it burns within the breast 

Of the rude Indian in his native wild. 

Rather than in proud Civilization's child 

By God's rich bounty blest. 

In him is honor— man's sublimest creed — 

And truth to those by whom he is distrest, 

Tho' driven by cold rapacity and greed 

Beyond the cradle of his father's rest. 

By leagues disgraced, by broken plights, 

By claims usurp'd and swords imbued 

With blood of men whom Mercy slights, 

And forces from their natal rights 

In starving bands bereft and rude. 

XVII. 

Babylon, the greater, yet shall fall 

'Neath the stern stroke of Heaven's avenging rod ; 

Plague, Famine and grim War, shall hang their pall 



PROGRESS OF REFORM. 23 

O'er this broad realm of blasphemy and fraud. 
That doom is ours which in Belshazzer's hall 
Blaz'd forth, the fiery literature of God, 
If we return not to the path of right. 
The path our fathers' footsteps trac'd. 
When Freedom's star descended bright 
Above their first red field of fight : 
Ere we, by craven deeds disgrac'd, 
Bent to that base poltroonery of heart. 
That longing after power and pelf. 
To seize, by vile deceptive art, 
A fellow's unpretending part. 
To sate the hungry monster. Self. 

XVIII. 

The surest presage of the swift decline 

Of realm, or race, however fair, 

Is when its sons begin to shine 

In Fashion's fascinating glare. 

And shall that magisterial Power 

That Nineveh's destruction plann'd, 

Forbid the shaft of death to lower 

In ruin o'er this wanton land ? 

Shall we, because our birthright is the West, 

Escape unscath'd, and be accounted blest? 

Or shall the sword, that in Senacherib's day 

Was drawn on sin, with us forbear to slay ? 

The page of history stands replete 

With tales of woe 'twere bootless to repeat ; 

Destructive famine, Plague and Pest, 

Together yoked in Death's sepulchral car — 

All earthly ills that fright the breast, 

In life's tumultous war. 

We read that Ocean has o'erleap'd her bound, 

And sweeps resistless o'er forbidden ground ; 

Now swelling onward, now retreating back. 

She spreads subversion in her wasteful track. 

O'er fair Kentucky's fruitless plains 



24 I'ROGRESS OF REFORM. 

Gaunt Famine points her shaft to slay ; 

And Hunger, blne-lip'd, in her chinking chains, 

Stalks forth to seek her prey. 

Nature, the mother of our first desires, 

Hath clos'd her vast exuberant magazine ; 

And, mocking while her child expires, 

Fulfils the ordinance of that Soul unseen. 

Who from his sovereign universal plan 

Makes mighty instruments to punish man. 

XIX. 

And yet behold the wrinkled face of Earth, 

On Izamura, 'mid the bounding main ; 

The fierce volcano leaps to frenzied birth 

And shoots red columns o'er the smoking plain. 

In ocean's wide expanse appears 

What lay submerg'd since man's primeval years ; 

And, far from Continental land, 

The stark and stormy billows are replac'd, 

AVhere, lifted by the Eternal Hand, 

Rich verdure rises from the blue cold waste, 

A quicken'd flood from earth's deep bosom breaks 

In purling streamlet, and sequester'd lakes. 

Such strange mutations surely are design'd 

To show how Nature reverences her God, 

And force reflection on man's mind 

Whene'er he walks abroad. 

The universe is rul'd by laws 

Unknown to mortal mind; 

And Nature from Heaven's cornucopia drtnvs 

The lovliest atom that the eye can find. 

The lowliest floral gem that lives 

In summer's mossy velvet shrinking ; 

Extols the God whose bounty gives 

The dew its thirsty lips are drinking. 

With pinions bickering in the breeze of morn 

The busy bee doth hum ; 

And, sipping nectar from the rudest thornj 



PROGRESS OF REFORM. 25 

Discants God's praise when nobler mouths are dumb. 

The fairest picture that the eyes behold, 

Of summer glory or autumnal gold ; 

O'er lowly vales that from the noonbeam hide, 

Or loftier verdure of the mountain side ; 

The heart grown arrogant with favor's taint, 

Heaven's fond indulgence to insatiate greed, 

Wasteful in fullness, fretful in restraint, 

Proudlv demands for its exclusive need. 



XX. 

What claim have we upon our Father's care, 

More than the feeblest song-bird of the air, 

The prowling denizen of the wood, 

Or monarch of the mighty plain ; 

The scaly offspring of the leaping flood. 

Or wondrous manatee of the boundless main? 

Formed in His image — we admit the fact; 

But did not sorrow crown the creative act? 

And where did Heaven's repentance mar the plan 

In any mortal work, save that of man? 

'Twas sin enfeebled the celestial force 

That bound his spirit to its deathless Source. 

And man was left, divorc'd of [hope, 

A waif in this dim wilderness of earth, 

With all the arts of hostile hell to cope, 

Unblest by peace or pleasure of his birth. 



XXI. 

" But was that bond of favor not restor'd, 

When on the cross our Paraclete and Lord, 

Made free oblation of his guiltless blood 

To save His creatures from the curse of God?" 

The objector queries— nor dare we deny 

The truth, embodie'd in the terse reply. 

But does not every moral law declare — 

3 



26 PROGRESS OF REFORM. 

Go, search the Scripture and you'll find it there, 

No soul from that atonement e'er shall win 

Death's commutation while it lives in sin. 

And who is perfect ? Ask thy heart 

If it hath no deformity nor fraud, 

Which from thy fellow, nice dissembling art 

May hide, but not from God. 

And shall we nurture in an age like this, 

Our ideal fancies of celestial bliss? 

Shall we assert the sole, exclusive right 

To tread the courts of sempeternal light; 

When man, the only life that mourns, 

The corypheus of created dust, 

In whom the Eternal Essence burns, 

Hath fallen from his high delegated trust ? 

But man may soar to his primeval pride, 

'Neath the bright banner of divine Keform ; 

And, with Jehovah's lightning in his arm, 

With seraphs seated side by side, 

In Heaven's ascending chariot ride, 

As he who rose o'er Jordan's tide, 

In fiery mantled form. 



XXII. 

Reform has sounded o'er the billowy seas, 

And swells to-day upon our Northern breeze; 

A bootless watchword, since the infant day 

Of fair Columbia's civilization grand, 

When, in the mellow smile of autumn's golden ray, 

The Latin's prow first kiss'd our laughing strand. 

But not whilom in transatlantic cliraes, 

The branch hath withered been; 

Where monuments, that speak to latest timesj, 

On every side are seen. 

And though the fair evangelist Reform, 

With sister Truth may slumber for awhile, 

'Till Error, stalking with uncovered form, 



PROGRESS OF REFORM, 27 

Shake her grim sceptre o'er the quaking soil ; 

'Tis but one cycle 'ere she start to life, 

Nerv'd, and rewaken'd to her latest strife ; 

One transient lustrum 'till her foe shall groan, 

And, toppling downward from her sable throne, 

Peans of praise to Heaven shall rise, 

As when from Wittenberg's undaunted dome, 

While rapture thrill'd the listening skies. 

Truth's bolt of thunder smote the walls of Rome. 

And, far as light, the echo swept away, 

That spoke the dawn of a serener day. 

Bigotry blasphem'd ; and Superstition's child 

Unsheath'd his sword in sanctified alarm ; 

And, from the martyrdom of Smithfield, pil'd 

A breathing sacrifice to Reform. 

'Tis surely dangerous to assail 

With rebel force the powers that be ; 

Even though within the tyrant's pale. 

We rear the banner of the free. 

But baneful 'tis to common weal. 

When royal despots strive to bind 

What stronger are than temper'd steel — 

The full and free credenda of the mind. 

Religious dogmas are more poteut far. 

Than conquerors deck'd with all the spoils of war ; 

For, in the boundless realm of Truth, 

No sophistry can change ; 

Where Faith pursues in early youth. 

The path from which her footsteps never range. 

And tho' the tempests of affliction roll. 

Sirocco-like, from pole to pole, 

Though war, disease, and hoUow-visag'd care, 

With carrion odors load the stinking air ; 

Though nature pour destructive draughts 

On every breeze our planet wafts. 

Though Learning mock the longing mind, 

And Reason wander, mutely blind, 

Or like the moth which leaves the darksome night, 

And, tortured, dies in its beloved light. 



28 PROGRESS OF REFORM. 

Truth, in her temple, shall serenely stand, 

While Ruin wastes the affrighted land. 

That glorious fabric which of old 

Was founded on the Eternal Rock, 

O'er which the circling years have roll'd. 

The Atheist's wrath, the Sceptic's scornful mock, 

Aristotelian heat, and Stoic cold ; 

When Time's sovereignty shall have ceas'd, 

May fall, at Man's immortal birth, 

And Truth, from every foe releas'd. 

Shall reign when Heaven descends to earth. 



XXIII. 

The homilist's labor may delight the heart, 

But surely 'tis severe ; 

Lavishing tropes of oratoric art. 

To please a stolid apathetic ear. 

Plac'd 'neath the public's most observant gjize, 

Subject alike to censure as to praise, 

If in his warmest apprecations rise, 

Words sprung from inadvertence of the brain, 

How soon the captious crew's distended eyes 

Express reproof as meritless as plain. 

The pompous Churchman, should he dare to read, 

One word beyond his liturgy and creed, 

T'is fear'd he's Methodistical in view. 

And makes an op'ning to let schism througii. 

Should Puritan conventiclers forbear. 

With Wesley's presbyters to rave and rant ; 

Should they the garb of moderation wear, 

Whik- ordering loudly to the general want; 

Should milder reason regulate their speech, 

And teach them temperance, with the art to preach, 

'Twould bring dishonor on the Apostolate, 

A nauseous savor of the Episcopate, 



PROGRESS OF REFORM. 29 

XXIV. 

If Heaven's delightful refuge must be sought, 

Thro' every tenent by sectarians taught ; 

If no salvation could possess the soul, 

While insubordinate to church control ; 

If 'twere decreed that guilty man might pass 

From earth to heaven, by scapular or mass; 

If frequent ofierings happiness might win, 

Or tithes ensure deliverance from sin ; 

Then might the child of destitution rue 

The fate, which barr'd him from that blest abode ; 

Then might the needle pass the camel through, 

And man impute a falsehood to his God. 

XXV-. 

One old Athenian did instruct mankind, 
To indulge the sense, but keep the ethics free ; 
To please the man, but purify the mind ; 
As if the mind acknowledged Nature's plea. 
To observe most rigorously all moral laws. 
And yield support to every worthy cause ; 
In short to enjoy whatever joy is given, 
Since pleasure's passion is the bliss of Heaven. 

XXYI. 

Another says, by fortune we exist ; 
No power to save, but virtue to assist ; 
Things are material, matter never dies ; 
And man is happy as his soul is wise. 
Gods live exalted in their heavenly sphere, 
But careless live, of our existence here. 
And tho' no sweets of hope and love 
Our orisons and praise dictate, 
Yet, deified and thron'd above, 
*Tis fit to reverence their superior state. 



80 PROGRESS OF REFORM. 

XXVII. 

Thus tivren Error, since the world began, 

In garb of truth, has misinstrnctod man ; 

And still directs him from the bcuicn way, 

In dark conjecture's labyrinths to stray. 

Like some lone traveler in the thicket lost, 

Who finds his way with thorny furze o'ercrost. 

Some more inviting prosi)ect lures him back. 

Where, to the genial sunbeam drawn, 

Unnumber'd paigles prink the emerald lawn ; 

And, pleas'd he treads along the smoother track, 

'Till from the path of duty stray'd, 

'Mid doubt, and dark uncertainty, he sees, 

While groping blindly in the treacherous shade, 

Tlie distant sunlight glimmering through the trees. 

'Tis thus the souls of men behold, 

While struggling thro' the maze of sin. 

Like winged arrows tip'd with gold. 

The Gospel sunbeams breaking in. 

First, dawning on the darken'd sight, 

'Mid clouds that mar its calm resplendent power; 

In mercy gleams the heavenly light. 

To guide our footsteps in affliction's hour. 

But when, illumined with the hallow'd flame, 

We feel the glow that grief can never tame, 

How soon, as from the planet's blaze, 

Its soften'd lustre is diffus'd around, 

'Till its divinely cheering rays 

Keach other souls in darkness bound. 

XXVIII. 

Then rise up Zion ! in thy beauteous pride ; 
Our queenly paraclete, and Messiah's bride ; 
Make pure thy sacred shrine once more, 
And gather home thy scatter' d flock ; 
Be thou our paradise for evermore, 
Safe builded on the Eternal Rock» 



PROGRESS OF REFORM. 31 

Let thy fair Fountain's superabundant light, 

Reflected shine serenely bright; 

And as the mists descend the mountain's brow 

When morning's beams with glad effulgence glow, 

So let the phantom of man's unbelief 

Forevermore depart ; 

'Till Joy ascend the throne of Grief 

And reign in every heart. 

Then, Avhen the Godhead shall unclothe his arm, 

Shall Time unfold the Banner of Reform, 

And usher in the sweet millenial reign 

Of heavenly rapture, and of halcyon calm ; 

When with a child to stroke his Royal mane, 

The Libyan lion shall slumber with the lamb. 

When the fierce leopard, and the kidling yqung. 

Shall feed together in the grassy glen ; 

The infant dally with the asi3ic's forked tongue. 

Or lay its hand upon the cockatrice's den. 



XXIX. 

This is the glory of man's last reform. 
Glimmering like sunlight o'er the poet's dream 
Who like a child, with yet unsinew'd arm, 
Staggers along beneath his weighty theme. 
Unskill'd to pluck from wisdom's lofty boughs, 
The riper fruit that in the sunbeam grows, 
My crude, insipid treasure ta'en 
From thorny groundsel dwarf'd and bare, 
Must have perforce, a transient reign. 
And perish when it tastes the air. 
But let it from remembrance fade, 
And rot as nobler things have done; 
My task is o'er, my filligrane is spun, 
While I, safe nestled in oblivion's shade, 
Still love all men though pleasing none. 



82 THE VIRTUES — A MONOLOGUE. 

The yiRTUEs — A yVloNOLocu 

BOOK T. , 

FAITH. 

The Just shall live by Faith.— Gal. iii. 2, Hab. ii. 4. 

First-bom of virtue, daughter of the skies ; 
Nursling of truth divine.— Pollok. 

I. 

Spirit of light, to earth descending, 

Subtilest essence of deathless joy ; 

Sister of Hope, conceived on high. 

Maker and mortal, in beauty blending ; 

Parent of Pleasure, and child of Truth, 

Bath'd in the mystical fount of youth ; 

The strength of the hero, the lore of the sage, 

The promise of childhood, the hope of age ; 

The beacon that guides us day by day, 

Down the billowy stream of life ; 

Lighting forever, with undimm'd ray. 

The lonely heart in its darkest strife. 

Nearest, and dearest, of all beneath, 

Or the ranks of the heavenly host among. 

Comforting spirit of life and death, 

Thee, O Faith ! does the voice of song. 

Crown with an amaranthine wreath. 



II. 



Sweet flower, at earth's creation glowing, 
Where man's primeval lot was laid ; 
Where Chaldea's odorous breezes blowing, 
Kiss'd the four streams from Eden flowing. 
Was thy fair form in infancy array'd. 
Wlieu for the fruit of death and pain, 



THE VIRTUES — A MONOLOGUE. S3 

In dark temptation's hour, 

The longings of desire were felt, 

And sin defiled the blest domain, 

Where man first felt the syren's power, 

And God's own glory dwelt, 

When from that God, repentant, came 

To Lamech's son, the stern command 

Of ruin, to an unconscious land ; 

When were destroy'd in wrath, and shame, 

The well-wrought creatures of a plastic hand. 

There in one bosom, did thy form abide, 

Strong to redeem the ruined hope of man ; 

Whose Gopher Ark was rear'd on heavenly plan, 

Haply by Kufa's walls, or Ctesiphon's sweet side. 

'Ere yet one symbol hung upon the sky, 

To speak the ruin pending nigh. 

The child of flesh was doubly saved by faith. 

First in the covenant of mercy given ; 

And last when, from the dismal womb of Death, 

Life rose rejoicing to its native heaven. 

III. 

" But does the moral code demand no more?" 

The theologian cries. 

" Do you the sovereign law of deeds despise, 

Setting, where merit nor destinction lies. 

One virtue paramount and far before? 

Will you the requirements of Love dismiss. 

And true obedience ? Pry thee tell me this ? 

If on one pedestal, and only one, 

The strong foundation of your hopes you place. 

If from this fount all peace serene is drawn. 

What need of Justice, decalogue or grace?" 



IV. 



Well granted then; the Gospel claims your love, 

And just obedience to the Power above. 

How know you this? "My Bible tells me so— 



34 THE VIRTUES — A MONOLOGUE. 

A cyclopaedia placed in all men's reach." 

You read that Bible, and believe it true 

In every tenent that its precepts teach. 

Without Belief, you cannot hope to win 

The full and free remission of your sin. 

Beliefs the duplicate of Faith, and so 

By reason's rule we find 

That from each fault and failing of the mind, 

Your absolution to your faith you owe. 

That wondrous substance of celestial things. 

Which evermore hath been, 

Peace to the poor, and royalty to kings, 

A " perfect evidence of things not seen," 

By which we know the universe was fram'd, 

And ocean circled with a solid wall, 

'Ere Heaven's etherial essence flam'd 

In man, and made him lord of all. 

By which, at Zarapath, the prophet pray'd 

For strength divine, and reinspired the dead. 

By which, at Jordan's sunny stream, 

To his immortal soul was given, 

As in the transport of a happy dream, 

Unbought with pain the peace of Heaven. 



V. 



Again, sweet seraph, wer't thou seen of old. 
On lone Moriah's grassy mantled slope ; 
Where, by the voice of duteous love control' d, 
Thou led'st thy cherish'd lamb from out its fold. 
And, hand in hand with thy meek sister Hope, 
Stretch'd the hewn fagots on the altar stone ; 
And 'neath the pitiful surveillance of day. 
With thy long locks on Judah's breezes blown, 
Uprais'd thy weapon'd arm to slay ; 
'Till, at the lingering stroke of death, 
The voice of Mercy rent the sky — 
Withhold thy hand, O child of Faith ! 
Thy seed shall never die. 



THE VIRTUES — A MONOLOGUE. 35 

VI. 

Ye thoughtless souls, o'er whom the blighting breath 

Of stern affliction, never yet hath pass'd ; 

Who never raourn'd beside the couch of death, 

Nor saw, thro' blinding tears, the last 

Expiring beam the spirit cast 

From the fed altar of unwavering faith. 

Fond-hearted parents, on whom heaven hath smil'd 

And bestow'd the treasure of an obedient child. 

Or you who boast a more abundant dower, 

A richer gleaning from the fields of bliss ; 

Who giv'st, at evening's hallow'd hour. 

To many mouths, the long expected kiss. 

If, at this hour, the Almighty should demand. 

The fairest flower of your fiducial band ; 

If Love were powerless from pain to save, 

The gentle being that its passion gave. 

Would you, the parent and the sacrificant priest, 

Prepare as readily the murderous knife, 

And lull the horror of your own mad breast 

While robbing his of life? 



VII. 

What charm of earth is half so fair 
As Faith, embosom'd in a gentle child ? 
Whose speaking glance, and sweet confiding air, 
That owns dependence on another's care. 
Evince the mind by falsehood undefil'd. 
Such faith in love as once imbued 
The boy who, smiling, look'd around, 
The while his sire, to prove him, stood 
And held, where wild Cheronderoga frown'd, 
His fearless form above the dashing flood. 
When after question' d if he felt no fright. 
While gazing down the torrent's giddy height ; 
Where wave on wave, in fierce electric flight, 



36 THE VIRTUES — A MONOLOGUE. 

Leaps down the rocky perpendicular wall ; 
Answer'd with face suffus'd in light, 
"Papa was there and would'nt let me fall." 

VIII. 

Oh ! well for man if, when the tempest's wrath 
With invious fury beats upon his path, 
When misery broods incumbent o'er the mind, 
And hope's bright star, with bickering beam, 
Like autumn's sun, is veil'd behmd 
The leaden fronted clouds, that stream 
In dark procession on the surging wind. 
When friends forsake, and danger's shafts assail ; 
Imposture reigns, and foul deceits prevail. 
When, thron'd in ease, the filthy soul of pride 
Views with disgust the squalor of the poor ; 
And, from the voice of penury, would hide 
Within her damned, inhospitable door. 
'Twere surely well, if from the mournful scene, 
The soul might gaze expectant and serene ; 
And sorrow grave upon her cypress pall. 
While bending lonely o'er affection's tomb — 
My Sire forbids this trembling soul to fall, 
Down the dark vortex of eternal doom. 



IX. 



A sovereign precept, sweet and pure, 

Is found in childhood's jDerfect trust ; 

A balm angelica, to cure 

The high blown glory of maturer dust. 

The man whose mind admires nor loves. 

The path where innocency roves. 

As that bright galaxy, sublime and broad. 

Where Plato, Socrates, and TuUy trod ; 

Where Archias trembled on his bright wing'd feet, 

Bathed in the sunshine of etherial heat ; 

Where Milton soar'd, majestically grand, 



THE VIRTUES A MONOLOGUE. 37 

High o'er the glimmerings of cimmerian night, 

Stretching aloft his heaven aspiring hand 

For other fruits than charm'd the Stagyrite. 

Who scorns the thought of simple age. 

All passionate and warm, 

But in the cold Athenian sage, 

Sees everything to charm ; 

Submits, where Science sternly seeks 

To rule the soul with philosophic rod ; 

Nor hears, when wiser Nature speaks 

Through untaught lips, the immutable will of God. 

Thus, thirsty souls have ever found 

Wisdom's most pure and salutary stream, 

To gush from nature's hallow' d ground, 

And, with ten thousand mirrors, seem 

To catch the impulse of a Form 

Forever fair in calm or storm. 

Witness, sweet sage of Olney, thou ! 

Who with a mind to pensive thought disposed, 

As the clear lake, whose crystal tinted glow 

'Neath summer's halcyon beam, delights to show 

In mimic forms fantastical below. 

Fair Nature in bright carcanet enclosed. 

So, with a soul in which all shapes sublime 

In either realm, alternate glow'd. 

Thou told'st to man in matchless " lofty rhyme" 

Nature is vicar to Almisrhtv God. 



" Stand upright on thy feet"— the Prophet cried 

To Lycaonia's cripple by his side. 

"What need to linger in thy pain so long, 

With hope so ardent and thy faith so strong?" 

He walks, and from that wondering band 

The voice of heavenly praise resounds ; 

And streams of grace refresh the land. 

As Nilus when she bursts her bounds. 

" Hail, great Merc'urius ! mighty Jove !" 



38 THE VIRTUES A MONOLOGUE. 

The sons of Lystra shout again— 
"Lo! from their blissful fields above, 
The gods are come in 'forms of men. 
Bring forth, to every thronging gate, 
The garlands and the spice ; 
And let the priests with incense wait 
To render sacrifice." 



XI. 



Ask, saith the Saviour, and ye shall receive, 
Whate'er the gift, provided ye believe. 
Mark the condition of the soul's demand, 
On Christ, our glorious Conqueror of death ; 
A hope whose architrave and columns, stand 
On the firm base of adamantine Faith. 
Which, if no doubt nor deed defile. 
Ye too may blast the fruitless tree ; 
And say to yonder mountain pile — 
Go, cast thy pillars in the sea ! 
"You mean to assume" — The disputant replies- 
"That temporal peace in man's attainment lies, 
If Faith, the elixir of your moral law. 
Exist unweaken'd and without a flaw. 
To bless and rebeautify the mighty plan, 
Marr'd by the peccancy of worthless man. 
Your ideal theory must establish sin, 
The souls' depravity made doubly plain ; 
111 deeds external, or ill thoughts within, 
Alike resulting in disease and pain. 
Man might traduce his fellow, pillage, steal. 
And raise his arm against the general weal, 
Defending acts, howe'er unjust and grave, 
With this assurance that belief wiU save." 



THE VIRTUES — A MONOLOGUE. 39 

XII. 

A misperception of sound faith, my friend ! 

Anoint thine eye's strabismus, and behold 

The plainer point to which our reasons tend — 

That man's eternal fortune is control'd. 

As a frail vessel on the stormy main, 

Reeling and shivering in the tempest's breath, 

Her main sheet Love, and Hope her anchor chain. 

Good works her tiller, and her pilot Faith. 

Without whose judgment to direct and guide. 

The bark must founder in the heaving tide. 

Sin's interdicted, and no soul can draw 

Support from truth, to violate her law ; 

Though one well lighten'd did whilom concede^, 

That faith might save without the authentic deed. 

And he who hopes, through licit acts, to evade 

Or even conciliate the judicial curse, 

Flattering his soul that when all men are weigh'd, 

Some others may be found as bad, and worse ; 

Who makes desire subserve his stronger will 

In laudable deeds, solicitous to fulfil. 

Mindless of that which but completes the plan, 

And moral standard of a christian man ; 

Like Cain, may murmer at Heaven's disregard, 

Commend his offering, and esteem it hard 

That buds of good, should bear the fruits of grief, 

Unmoistened by the dew drops of belief. 



XIII. 

The Christian's part, since Pentecost, design'd, 

Is to advantage and instruct mankind ; 

To lead the weary, and allure the gay 

From sin's broad walk, to God's sublimer way. 

And not to stand like Agelastus mute, 

In mirtliless syncope and sable suit, 

While time's swift torrent onward rolls, 



40 THE VIRTUES A MONOLOGUE. 

In life's Plutonian gate, 

To fight, Avitli grim solemnity, the souls 

That share Religion's dark, unfriended fate. 

In this low realm, where even love is rude, 

If mortal smile. Redemption's children should ; 

Whose faith, when earthly comforts fail, 

May waft their spirits through the shadowy vale, 

And light them onward in their joyous way. 

To that high realm of empyrean day, 

Where angel ministers of peace prepare, 

With meek-eyed Mercy, and her sister Love, 

Those spotless robes, the soul of man shall wear 

In God's eternal Paradise above. 



XIV. 

Daughter of Truth ! Oh ! Let thy spirit dwell 
In this fond heart, nor ever from it fly ; 
Though by thy first-born bastardy, man fell 
When Satan said, " Ye shall not surely die." 
For as in love thou gavest the soul to death. 
With equal love thy spirit may recall 
The soul of man from sorrow. O, sweet Faith ! 
Bidding us rise triumphant o'er our fall. 
Eternal guardian ! pilot of holiest form ! 
Guide our lone bark in its tempestous race. 
And safely weathering every wave and storm, 
Anchor us proudly in the haven of peace. 



THE VIRTUES A MONOLOGUE. 41 

BOOK II. 

HOPE. 



Which hope we have as an_ anchor of the soul, both sure (and steadfast, 
id which entereth into that within the veil. — Hebrews vi. 19. 

Wak'd by thy touch, I see the sister band 

On tiptoe watching, start at thy command ; 

And fly where'er thy mandate bids them steer. 

To Pleasure's path, or Glory's Bright career. — Campbell. 



I. 



With spirit charm'd to glory's asphodel, 

Day after day, the poet builds amain 

His world of fancies, sapiently and well, 

Studded Avith gems deep quarried from his brain. 

He sighs, and labors, with incessant care 

To make his darling beautiful and fair ; 

To solemn thoughts oft sacrifices ease, 

And hopes, when polish'd, that his strains will please. 

To every moral exigence inclin'd, 

The fickle fancies of the public mind. 

Too oft dispos'd, in apathy austere, 

To slight the good and draw the hurtful near. 

In former ages, critics little cared 

If songs were graceful, how the import fared ; 

When flowing measures superseded sense, 

And authors wrote at chastity's expense. 

When Britain's drama was a mingled scene 

Of bold-fac'd folly, prurient and obscene ; 

'Ere Shakspeare's histrionism shook the boards, 

And Fancy play'd on Feeling's tenderest chords : 

'Kre Jonson's wit was rendered on the stage ; 

Or Milton's epic purified the age : 

'Ere Drummond's lyrics stirr'd the northern souls, 

Or Liber Pater lent his harp to Knowles ; 

Or satire's arrows at corruption hurl'd, 

Told when a Dryden burst upon the world. 



42 THE VIRTUES A MONOLOGUE. 

But pure refinement, in this modern day, 
Examines closely either poem or play, 
Which, made in scenes of luxury and wealth, 
Is apt to appear in very dubious health. 
The pages flowing from the public press. 
On fashion's frippery, and the rules of dress. 
Of senseless balderdash, by mischief plan'd, 
To charm the giddy and corrupt the land. 
The judicious parent will, 'tis hop'd, discern 
With grave suspicion, and from watching learn, 
That neither profit, rectitude, nor right. 
Can come from trash so malapert and light. 



II. 



If this poor hand could learn the so v' reign art, 
And to the canvas all but life impart ; 
If painting own'd the Muse's sweet command. 
And doubly crown'd the poet's willing hand ; 
With skilful touch my pigment streaks would show, 
O'errul'd by fancy's gay capricious choice, 
Complete in every folly save the voice, 
A modish belle and her attendant beau. 
Furbush her first, through deference to the fair, 
And next the coxcomb to complete the pair. 
But, weak and diflident, my muse would ask 
A friend's assistance at the dangerous task, 
While she relates the wonders that did greet 
Her roving gaze, while sauntering down the street. 
One wonder ! Aye, a double one forsooth, 
A two-fold prodigy of perfect growth — 
A belle de beau monde and her peiit maiiie^ 
So proud, and deaf to reason's loud complaint. 
She thought a label pinn'd upon the pair. 
To read in this wise, would be passing fair — 
" To Mr. Sillyman— Handle this with care, 
Keep out of doors, and do not rub the jminty 
A little lady with coquettish grace, 



THE VIRTUES — A MONOLOGUE. 43 

Wrapp'd in a league or two of Gallic lace ; 

A quarter acre of superb brocade, 

That swept tlie pavement at each step she made ; 

A coif as lovely as Medusa wore, 

When Neptune wanton' d in Minerva's bower, 

'Ere the chaste goddess, anger'd to behold 

The illicit love, made serpents of her gold. 

With waist scarce larger than a wasp's, whose head 

And trunk are join'd by one attenuate thread ; 

A spinal curvature, in Greece first worn, 

'Tis held, but Pallas puts the claim to scorn ; 

Whose full, straight figure in pure marble stands, 

True to the type of Nature's plastic hands. 

Not so our damsel who, distorted, kneels 

In church, or saunters on her patent heels, 

With skirt uplifted, down the gaping street. 

To fan the first and lawless fire 

Of impious thought, or lecherous desire 

In silly hearts, that corresponsive beat 

To every motion of her dainty feet. 

The city belle, whom fashion bears away 

As ocean toying with her feathery spray ; 

As Piscator, whose barb'd and gilded bait 

Allures the watery denizen to its fate. 

The ghost of manhood that frequents her side. 

Attends his fautress with obsequious stride ; 

With lily palms, deterg'd of labor's tan, 

Bearing his gold tipp'd cane, or lady's fan ; 

Or, wand' ring oft to his superior lip. 

Strokes the soft down that yet defies his grip. 



III. 



But to return— this uninstructive dream 
Diverts the mind from her sublimer theme, 
As the light shaft, sent whistling from the string. 
Flies like a sunbeam on its rapid wing, 
Till some opposing current thwart its course 



44 THE VIRTUES A MONOLOGUE. 

And waste on air its swift but useless force. 
Or as Venator, who fatigued and lame, 
With fruitless efforts to surprise the game, 
Chagrin'd and vex'd from his successless march, 
Calls in his hounds to quit the tedious search ; 
AVhen Lo ! Afar the antler'd stag he sees 
Cropping the tufted herbage at his ease ; 
His eager pack resume the noisy race, 
And Nimrod follows in the furious chase. 
O'er hill and dale his flying feet pursue 
The nimble journey of the clamorous crew, 
Till, led so far from his accustomed track, 
His Vilder'd sense can scarce conduct him back. 



IV. 



We said that Hope inspires poetic lays, 

That claim from all their modicum of praise ; 

When, in defense of virtue's sacred laws, 

The Muse steps forth to aid a worthy cause. 

But not like dews of Helicon to the bard, 

Its filter'd sweets by every bosom shar'd. 

Shed their calm stream where grief and passion rave. 

Like oil that soothes the ocean's storm}' wave. 

It tells man's soul the hallow'd morn shall come, 

AVhen songs of praise shall consecrate each home ; 

When vice, that " monster of so hateful mien," 

Shall lose its semblance so infrequent seen. 

When Zion's sun uprising, shall adorn 

With dazzling beams, the spirit's halcyon morn ; 

When pain shall languish, and the weak grow strong, 

Pale sorrow perish, and each trembling tongue, 

Once more awaken'd to the voice of truth, 

With triumph crown the day's eternal youth. 

Fair friend ! to whom in every grief we fly, 

Within whose shrine the glad and mournful bow. 

We see thy smile in Rapture's sparkling eye, 

And read thv name inscribed on Sorrow's brow. ' 



THE VIRTUES — A MONOLOGUE. 45 

V. 

While slavery lives, and tyrants wear the frown, 
While Faith is weak or Mercy is cast down ; 
While o'er man's soul the rays of light divine, 
Like cresset beams from heaven's high altar shine ; 
While sober autumn yields to winter's breath," 
In grave similitude of life and death ; 
While spring revives the glories of the plain, 
Like man, arising to a nobler reign. 
While pain endures, and bitter drops are shed 
To embalm the ashes of the long-lost dead, 
While joy shall bless, or misery mar the mind. 
Or justice perish and leave wrong behind ; 
AVhile love is false, and truth forgets to grace ■ 
The plantive tale that speaks misfortune's case, 
While moon and star continue in their course. 
And move obedient to celestial force. 
In short, while God's great universe shall roll, 
Or God's great wisdom animate the whole, 
Hope shall not fail, but like a seraph reign 
For man's delight, in her immortal fane ; 
From whose bright arch descending shall extend 
Her arms to bless, deliver and befriend. 



VL 



When pale Disease, with all her ghastly train 

Of feeble fancies, and distressing pain, 

Kacks the worn sufferer on his weary bed, 

And Death's pale shadow o'er the features spread, 

Tells how the soul, that waiteth to obey 

The mystic mandate, burns to soar away. 

Can earth, or time, its anxious thoughts control, 

Or soothe the troubles of that restless soul, 

Hovering uncertain, o'er the dark abyss 

That yawns between the eternal world and this ? 

Friends may assemble on the silent shore, 



46 THE VIRTUES — A MONOLOGUE. 

With hearts distrest, and surrowing to the core, 

To sigh Farewell I and press the fainting hand, 

Or e'er the mystic bark forsakes the strand. 

With mortal vision we may watch and weep 

The drooping eyelids, as they sink to sleep ; 

Mark the last flickering of the fitful breath, 

But not the soul as it departs in death. 

We cannot step beyond that solemn pale, 

Nor guide its journey through the shadowy vale ; 

But, o'er the senseless ashes, stoop to pray 

For peace to hover o'er its heavenward way. 

But Hope, the constant and consoling spright. 

Spreads her broad wings, and s"oars beyond our sight. 

Cheers its departure from the shores of time, 

And bears it safe to that celestial clime. 

Where, in the portals of this bright abode. 

She folds her wings, and dies beside her God. 



BOOK III. 
CHARITY. 

And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three ; but the greatest of 
these is charity. — I. Cor. xiii. 13. 

True Charity, a plant divinely nurs'd. 

Fed by the love from which it rose at first. — Cowper. 



I. 



The sovereign Power that first brought forth 

From dim chaotic gloom profound, 

This fair illimitable earth, 

When infant Time, in happy birth. 

From the bright spheres that roll'd around. 

First caught the planets pealing sound. 

Creation's earliest mirth; 



THE VIRTUES A MONOLOGUE. 47 

Eear'd from the dust, when life and love began, 

A fair, mysterious form, and call'd it man. 

Cold and insensate as the silent dust 

Whence it arose, the matchless fabric stood, 

Till God imbreath'd the soul's immortal trust, 

And man with life's etherial essence glow'd. 

The fleshy torment of mysterious pain — 

The viewless seraph of eternal Hope — 

The Faith, that links the mind's invisible chain, 

And sportive Mirth, whose rosy fingers ope 

The portal gate to Joy's elysian fane. 

The pale affrighted minister of Fear, 

In the calm presence of the laurel' d Dove ; 

Hate, trending forth with sullen-brow'd Despair, 

And last sweet Charity, the child of Love. 

The omnific Mind his matchless work survey'd, 

Saw what was wanted to complete the plan ; 

And Charity, in vestal robes array' d. 

Came forth, and smiled upon the subject man. 



II. 



When meash'd and fetter' d in the tempter's snare. 
The soul to man and friendship's powers appeals. 
What love, what mercy, crowns the mournful prayer 
That frames in words the bitter pangs she feels ? 
The censor's scoff her dark disgraces greets, 
Opprobrious sneers the love her misery meets, 
Friend spurning friend, forsakes the sad abode 
And her, whom scorn confronts along the road. 
In offensive gratitude all hearts agree, 
And thank the gods that they are not as she. 
T'is then that Charity, the heavenly maid. 
Comes forth and lifts her from oblivion's shade; 
Solacious throws her loving arms around. 
And pours sweet balm in sorrow's bleeding wound ; 
While with forgiveness importun'd of men, 
She starts her prosperous in the race again ; 



48 THE VIRTUES — A MONOLOGUE. 

Perhaps to fall, perhaps to redeem her name- 
In either case her purpose is the same : 
To amend if mendable and glory win, 
But if successless guilty of no sin. 



III. 



The barbarous savage, full of wonder, finds 

The shipwreck'd mariner struggling with the wind^' 

In unknown regions, like a bubble tost 

From ocean's billows on his sea-girt coast; 

Strange in speech, in feature, and in form, 

In frenzy buffeting the briny wave. 

He finds the pale-fac'd nursling of the storm, 

And lends his efforts to assist and save. 

In fear at first ; his sudden wonder oer, 

With uncouth signs he warns him from the shore, 

But soon his miseries every power enlist, 

Touch the wild heart, and prompt it to assist ; 

With friendly gestures see the vandals greet 

The helpless stranger, and provide him meat, 

Eest and a shelter though rough rear'd and rude, 

Within a low but hospitable wall, 

AVhich, where 'tis render'd in less kindly mood. 

Must shame the grandeur of a prouder hall. 



IV. 



Disgust may prompt the unthinking heart to hurt 

The noxious reptile wriggling in the dirt, 

For 'tis not love that always can constrain. 

Our just aversion to inflict a pain. 

But Charity supplicates the mind to spare 

The mean existence that demands its care. 

And, reasoning sapiently, from nature draws 

A powerful plea to strengthen Mercy's cause. 

** Mortals, so nearly the brute allied. 

Have naught but sense to mark the better side, 



THE VIRTUES — A MONOLOGUE. 49 

And if the spirit have a seperate sphere, 
What gain for man to persecute his peer? 
And by his act disprove, whene'er he can. 
His own assertion that his name is Man." 



V. 



In China's land of sub-celestial dreams, 
The bright cognition of her glory beams; 
The spire-cross, pointing from her flowery plains. 
Crowns the proud temples where Jehovah reigns. 
Her gentle voice has bid His message roll 
From torrid Indus to the Artie pole. 
Peace has descended on her snowy wings, 
Beneath whose shade the virgin laurel springs ; 
And vandal faith, that darken' d for awhile 
The gloomy land, has fled before her smile. 
From darker climes, where in their convent cell 
The pale-ey'd ghosts of Superstition dwell ; 
Where, blind to every nobler aim of man. 
The imag'd shrine, the nodding cowl t' obey, 
The short and simple Breviary page to scan, 
Is duty's farthest round from day to day. 
O sweet Ausonia ! Nature's martyr child 
Plinius, hath prais'd and prais'd thee not amiss, 
Whose spicy groves and breezes murmuring mild, 
Were meet to fan God's paradise of bliss. 
Yet art thou fallen, with thy immortal train, 
Land where the sweet Venusian lov'd to sing ; 
And Sulmo's harp was sounded not in vain, 
Though servile sycophancy did infect the strain, 
And foul the heart that bade its raptures ring. 
Thou ! on whose breast Cremona's royal bard 
The pastoral lyre of Kome's proud Ennius strung, 
Where Navius won the scorner's rich reward ; 
Where Plautus laugh' d, and lofty Terence sung. 
And thou Iberia! from whose virgin soil 
The seeds of false philosophy arose, 



60 THE VIRTUES — A MONOLOGUE. 

Before the Seven Hill'd City found her spoil 
In thy rich vales, where golden Lydius flows. 
Thou from the mind's dark labyrinth shall return, 
Or fly like Daedalus on heaven plum'd wing; 
When on thy shore the torch of Truth shall bum. 
And thy glad realm with waking peans ring. 



VI. 



Japan has seen in her secluded isle, 

The heavenly halo of the Gospel's smile ; 

And o'er Caffraria's swamps and fevery streams. 

The mystic Light of Loois co-herald beams. 

To Gambia's fens, and Chago's isles has gone 

The shout to roll the Gospel chariot on. 

The desert blossoms, and the dawn is near. 

When earth and sea the Mighty Name shall hear ; 

While pagans, waking from ten secies sleep. 

Extend th' fraternal hand across the deep ; 

And the rude Brahmin in his lone abode 

Sees Hope's bright meteor dance across his path ; 

And mocks the painted figure of his god, 

On prophet car, the blood-stain'd Juggernaut. 



CAROLING TO THE NIGHT. 61 

Caroling to the Night. 



Night unto night sheweth knowledge.— Psalms xix 2. 

Night, sable goddess! from her ebon throne, 
In rayless majesty now stretches forth 
Her leaden sceptre o'er a slumbering world ; 
Silence how dead ! and darkness how profound ! 
Nor eye nor listening ear an object finds — 
Creation sleeps.— Young — Night Thoughts. 



I. 



O dark brow'd empress ! mild somniflurious Night ! 

Who tread'st impetuous in the desinent trail 

Of thy dusk herald Eve. Unloosing wide 

Thy sable robes, thou leavest the Orient gate, 

And walkest swiftly o'er the wetern isles, 

Like a dark-eyed sultana of that clime. 

Whose mild and tranquil beauties languish soft 

Beneath thy starry mantle, Queenly Night ! 

Twin-born attendant of dilucid Day ! 

Who callest gently to thy bourne of rest, 

The horny handed laborer from his task ; 

With toil's nobility grim'd upon his brow, 

And written proudly on each brawny palm. 

He comes. Earth's grandest hero, in whose grasp 

Are lock'd the proudest destinies of man. 

That which the crazy Macedonian king, 

From Issus, Granicus, nor Arbela, won ; 

And which the bold Amasian sought in vain. 

Though twelve imperial coronals own'd his power, 

Sleeps, like the sceptre of a royal Jove, 

With him proud offspring of Lemnian God. 

Deep silence reins, the busy world endures 

A solemn Syncope. The grinding mill. 

The smoking factory, and the sweating forge, 

Forget their tumult ; while the man of toil 



52 CAROLING TO THE NIGHT. 

Safe harbor'd in that peaceful Eden, home, 

Enjoys a sweet repose. More weary he. 

The sallow legist from his protocol. 

And manuscripts archaic, tracing back, 

Through the dim shadows of forgotton years, 

The changing tenure of Ancestral rights, 

Vex'd with litigious bufieting. Him who buys 

And sells pale-fac'd, since infancy confin'd 

In dry dust laden marts, deprived of light, 

And air, first principles of manly health ; 

Him wan pilgarlic doth thy presence bless. 

But sweeter still, to the maternal heart, , 

Or fonder bosom of a faithful wife, 

Patient in needful absence, dost thou bring 

The son and husband from the paths of vice. 

And incident inticements ; lawless deeds. 

And foul debaucheries in difierent forms. 

By which the power of Satan doth entrap 

Unguarded innocence. When restless day 

Hath pain'd the ear, and wrought the spirit sick, 

With dire profanity, and disgusting rounds 

Of brawls discordant, and still harsher jar 

Of aristic contest; wherein forms of speecli 

Big with offensive quandaries are profuse. 

How calm, and sweet, is that monastic home 

Where dwells the angel Love. There prattling tongues, 

And childish laughter, charm the sweeter hours. 

And drown the world, with all its grief and cares, 

Its pains, its purposes, its rude alarms 

Of pending evil ; its distracting sports. 

Ambitions eager purposes to rise 

By sly contrivance, or notorious act. 

And supercede on life's deceptive stage. 

The heart that loves him best. Then Slumber too, 

That sovereign nostrum of the universe, 

Balm of stern trouble, tonic of the brain, 

Invigoring every faculty of man, 

And ministering to the anguish madden'd mind 

The hellebore of easement. Slumber reigns, 



CAROLING TO THE NIGHT. 53 

And in the strange similitude of death, 

Calls forth existence from the vale of years ; 

With retrospective or prophetic eye, 

Looks through the future, or in memory's glass, 

Surveys the long lost minions of the past. 

There are the scenes of youth, which in the mind 

Retain primeval semblance ; and which Time 

Mars and deforms but never can efface. 



II. 



The shelter'd cot, with its adjacent shed. 

And low roof'd barn filled plenteous to the peak, 

Well pack'd and regular, with the golden sheaves. 

The cerealious fruitage of the glebe, 

The wain slow rolling up the shaggy way, 

With ripe stramineous fascicles surcharg'd ; 

And jolting o'er each jacent obstacle. 

With lurch deciduous ; while the sun-brown'd swain. 

Who with an air of deep concern, directs 

In smoothest ways the rustling pyramid. 

Seems when obverted on the yielding pile 

About to fall, when with a counter yerk 

He appears once more erect. The tilth enclog'd, 

The ivied walls, the hedges hortulan, 

Along' whose base the floral landscape blooms 

In daisies white, and saf'ron daffodils. 

The umbrageous pathway to the pasture plot, 

So often traversed by the nimble feet, 

With romp and frolic, halting by the way 

To pluck the gaudy primrose, that perchance. 

Allured the fancy with its gairish tints. 

Or, oftener still, to hunt the frisking squirrel 

With barbarous clamor to its adjacent hole ; 

While constant cur, sure trotting at the heels. 

And ever faithful with his yelping note. 

Made brake and woodland echo, and the bird 

Embower'd melodious in her vocal bough, 



CAROLING TO THE NIGHT. 

Suspend her song in listening to the rout. 

The frequent ramble on the winding shore 

Of some meandering stream, with angling rod 

Oblique or traverse, on the shoulder borne, 

And bait cup, well provision'd to secure 

Rapacious plunder from the scaly tribe, 

Who, like their captor ever on the alert 

For dainty morsel to appease his greed. 

Make the swift seizure, only to be hook'd, 

And floundering, drag'd triumphant to the shore. 



III. 



Only in fancy or the realm of dreams. 

Our ravish'd eyes review, and feet regain 

Those paths of peace, and thou illustrious Night 

More dearly priz'd for thy rich ornature 

Of heavenly mercies, do we bid the hail ; 

Thou, who like Orcus in his raven pall 

But with a soul of loveliness divine, 

Comest to the spirit with thy solemn thoughts. 

Thou whose black robe and star-girt coronet, 

And gentle voice that falleth on man's heart, 

As a soft whisper from the upper world, 

Telling his soul the majesty of God ; 

Oh ! preach forever on thy wondrous theme. 



IV. 



Though heaven's bright hosts were silent, and the earth, 

The Gospel fail, and man forget the source 

To which he owes his being ; drifting forth 

A helmless bark upon the warring tide, 

His pilot Reason fallen overboard, 

And Passion only to direct his course. 

Though empires fall, and kingdoms pass away, 

Vain toys of man's creation ; and the star 

That lures ambition up the heights of fame, 



♦ CAROLING TO THE NIGHT. 55 

The Dagon of his worship, fade and leave 
The frustrate heart in bitterness to drain 
Its gall of disapointment. Though the sword 
For man's destruction wielded, deluge earth 
With swollen streams of sanguinary woe, 
And droAvn in blood the affinity of hearts. 
Though nature's law, and nature's bounty cease, 
And breed confusion in the universe ; 
Yea, though this animated globe should fall 
In million atoms through the realm of space, 
Night should not fail in marshaling her host 
Of glittering stars upon the field of light. 
Or leading up, in splendid retinue, 
Her long and fleecy caravan of clouds. 



V. 



Night tries the concience, as the furnace tries 
The glittering steel, and while Reflection rakes 
From memory's temple, some malignant wound 
Of former error, cicatriz'd by time, 
What poisonous canker from the aspic fang 
Of conscious Guilt, inflames the horrid wound, 
And pricks to keen remorse the callous'd mind. 
And how shall he that bears the crimson stain, 
And awful immundicity of blood 
Congenial with his own, who madly dares 
Destroy the life that God himself bestow'd ; 
How shall he look for happiness below, 
Or that sweet ataraxy of the mind, 
Man's pregustation of a rest divine ? 
Avenging Justice, God's own minister, 
Pursuing fastest in the silent hours ; 
And muttering such deep menaces that the heart 
Flutters, and stops, or tries but tries in vain 
To drown pale Fear in her black sepulchre, 
The curse of Cain— the damning curse of Cain, 
In darkness sounding like a demon's cry, 



56 CAROLING TO THE NIGHT. 

To interlude the fulminating Law 
So impiously infring'd — 'Thou shalt not kill," 
In auscultation, the dread spirit starts 
In dire alarm at each successive sound, 
While hosts of hissing devils seem to throng 
In mockery o'er him, shrieking murder, blood. 
The softest murmer of the nocturnal breeze, 
The laj^ping leaves, the cricket's lonely chirp. 
And measur'd tick of time's slow horologue. 
In notes discordent strike with shuddering dread 
Upon the sound-board of his secret fears. 
What soonest lulls the innocent soul to rest — 
The voice of nature musical and low, 
In amorous converse with the starry spheres ; 
The owlets hoot, the murmuring of the stream 
Or mournful threnody of the nightingale, 
To him are legionary spies conceal'd 
To learn the secret of his awful guilt. 



VI. 



Yet is there One whose mighty Spirit fills 
The boundless universe ; and though we fly 
On wings of morning to the farthest sea, 
Or rise to Heaven, or rest our soul in Hell, 
Though in the roaring caverns of the deep, 
Or wayless solitude of desert wilds, 
Though in the ghastly catacomb we hide, 
Amid the fleshless phantoms of the past ; 
Even there the darkness shineth as the day. 
To Him whose matchless potency sustains 
This grand concatenated chain of Life. 
There is no word that trembles on the tongue, 
Nor whisper brooding in the templed heart, 
But to that Spirit of Omniscient Love 
Is plainly audible, be it right or wrong. 



CAROLING TO THE NIGHT. 57 

VII. 

Night is Lethality's emblem, whence we learn 

To prepare the spirit for that deeper gloom 

That shrouds the mystic landscape of the dead. 

A gloom how dense, when hope of brighter morn 

Beyond the shadows fails and Faith forgets 

Those strains triumphal that the Psalmist tun'd, 

To waft his spirit over Jordan's stream. 

Teach me, O Night ! Preceptress of the Soul ! 

Teach me the burden of that heavenly song ! 

And with thy incantation sweet, dispel 

The cloud shades of Eternity. Let this heart. 

Beneath the drippings of Almighty Love, 

Melt with the soft infusion, and rejoice 

As they who stood within the saphirine, 

And golden gates of Patmos' ideal city, 

To sound of lyre and sackbut! Teach me this, 

Or e'er thy dusky curtain doth ascend 

And bright hyperion usher in the morn ! 



58 VISIONS OF THE NIGHT. 

Visions of the Night. 

In thoughts from the visions of the night, when deep sleep falleth upon 
men. — Job iv. 13. 

Celestial voices to the midnight air,[ 

Sole, or responsive each to other's note, 

Singing their Great Creator. — Milton, Paradise Lost^ iv. 598. 



And he dreamed ; and behold, a ladder set up on the earth, and the top 
of it reached to heaven ; and behold, the angels of God ascending and 
descending on it. — Gen. xxviii. 12. 

'TwAS IN THE NIGHT, on Bethel's silent hill, 
The Patriarch saw, and trembled as he lay- 
On stony conch, those glittering steps of gold, 
Rear'd like a pillar to the star-lit sky ; 
And angel hosts in floating robes of white 
Ascending and descending, while above 
The glorious vista's gradatory steep, 
The awful canopy of God Himself, 
Supernal spread in fiiscinating show, 
Burn'd like the fiery circles of the sun. 
While holiest anthems from the heavenly choir. 
Whose great Choragus is the Lamb Himself, 
With golden harps surrounding the bright Throne, 
Came with a soft millifluence of sound. 



II. 

And Pharaoh rose up in the night, he and all his servants, and all the 
Egyptians ; and there was a great cry in Egypt, for there was not a house 
where there was not one dead.— Ex. .xii. 30. 

'TwAb IN THE NIGHT, in Egypt's lordly laud. 
O'er Nilus' stream, arose the bitter wail 
Of sudden anguish, bursting from the soul 
Oi' Pharaoh's haughty nation, grieved sore 



VISIONS OF THE NIGHT. 59 

Through disobedience to the stern command 
Of God, to let his people part in peace. 
The silent Night, when underneath their palms, 
And in their temple courts the priests all slept ; 
And Sphynx' stony eyes that watchful guard 
The lofty entrance to Osiris' fane, 
Forever wakeful, motionless, and mute, 
Alone beheld the midnight messenger pass 
Like a swift shadow with unsounding tread, 
Through the dim vaulted corridor, and along 
The sinuous passage, till he stood before 
The marble chamber ; when in pomp reposed 
The pamper'd prince, and first-begotten child. 



III. 

And Saul disguised himself, and put on other raiment ; and he went, and 
two men with him, and they came to the woman bj^ Night. — I. SAM., xxviii, 8. 



TwAS IN THE NIGHT, on Carmel's battle plain, 

When from the watchfires twinkling through the gloom, 

The sorrowful Saul, clad in a peasant's garb, 

O'erpass'd grey Hermon's brow ; and entering deep 

Tiie dark cold precincts of the mountain cave. 

Where dwelt the sorceress tritical, dar'd to hold 

Clandestine converse on forbidden themes. 

He spake, and Lo! before his startled eye 

The prophet was recarnined; the seer arose, 

A stark tremendous visitant from the tomb. 

In dust and ashes mouid'ring, and the eye, 

From which the light had long departed, void ; 

A hollow cavern, from which worms had eat 

The Avither'd flesh. Thus the dread form arose. 

Saul bow'd his head, while the strange spirit stood 

And spoke in warning and austere rebuke 

To Jewry's prostrate king : " Why seekest thou me ? 

And why disquietest thou my silent sleep ? 

Can not the ashes of the dead repose 



60 VISIONS OF THE NIGHT. 

In their dim mansion, where the thoughts of earth 
Forever perish ; is not even the grave 
Exempt from strife, and man's destroying rage. 
And darest thou, whom a God deserts, invoke 
The ghost of Karaah to deliver thy life 
From fierce Philistia ? Whose avenging sword 
Shall Israel smite, for Saul's most fatal sin 
In sparing Amalek's pride. Depart, O king! 
And lead thy feeble followers to the fray, 
For ere the morrow's sun withdraw his light. 
Thou and thy faithless brood shall rot with me." 



IV. 



In the last day, that great day of the feast, Jesus stood and cried, saying, 
*■ If any man thirst let him come unto me and drink.' — johx vii, 87. 

The Feast of Tabernacles, one of the three annual festivals of the Jews, 
commenced upon the 15th, and lasted until the 22d of their month Tisri ; which 
included a part of September and October. And during the seven days which 
it occupied, the people dwelt in booths, (Lev. xxiii, 42, 43,) to commemorate the 
tents or booths in which they rested in their journey from the land of bondage. 

A vast concourse of all races, both Jews and Gentiles, attended this cere- 
mony, until, from a solemn religious obser\'ance, it gradually assumed the form 
and character of a vast Oriental Bazaar, where the nicotian fumes from the 
intolerable chibouk of the merchant Turk, mingled freely with the vapory in- 
cense from the altar of the Seven-days-offering. And as night merely changed 
the color of the scene, without lessening its activity, the Mountain of the Holy 
City must at that season have presented a most brilliant and sublime spectacle. 

TwAS IX THE NIGHT, on Zion's holy mount. 
The last great season of the solemn feast 
Of Tabernacles ; and the curtain'd tents 
On fair Moriah's green and sloping side. 
The feathery palm trees, with their nodding crown.5 
Kefresh'd and water'd with the falling dew; 
The myrtled booths, and olive branches twin'd 
In one green forest of umbrageous life. 
Lit by the glare of torch and cresset, liung 
From glittering bowr's and high fennestral halls. 



VISIONS OF THE NIGHT. 61 

Gave forth a tintemar of thousand tongues. 

While 'neath the ornate and embellish'd walls 

Of fair Jerusalem, once the pride and joy 

Of Judah's captive, pining 'neath the lash 

Of stern Oppression ; all was light and song. 

Her antique battlements, and solemn fanes ; 

Her massive arches and triumphal gates ; 

Her towering pillars exquisitely rare, 

Of polish'd marble, fashion'd by the tools 

Of Tyrean sculptors, train'd to nice designs 

Of efFegial trade, and architectural skill ; 

Prolong'd the sounds of deep solemnity. 

While down each purfled aisle, sublimely grand, 

In pealing symphony, swell'd the note of praise. 

The harp and psaltery measur'd to the psalm — 

Hozanna Kabba — " Bless ye the Lord ! 

All ye servants of the Lord, 

Which by night stand in the house of the Lord! 

Lift up your hands in the sanctuary 

And bless the Lord ! 

The Lord that made heaven and earth 

Bless thee out of Zion." 

And ere the mantling dawn suffuse the sky, 

The silver trumpet of the toga'd priest, 

With one long blast of sweet sonorous sound 

Starts the procession to the holy spring ; 

Whence, soon returning with their flagon's full. 

They ascend the temple steps with solemn chant, 

" Our feet shall stand within thy gates, O Jerusalem !" 

And, to commemorate the grateful stream 

That in the desert flow'd from Horeb's rock. 

Pours every man his beaker on the ground. 



V. 

The same night Peter was sleeping between two soldiers, bound with two 
chains, and the keepers before the door kept the prison. — Acts xii. 6. 

'TwAS IN THE NIGHT, withiu the gloomy walls 
Of the dark dungeon, manacled and gyved. 
By Herod's cruel and unjust decree, 



62 VISIONS OF THE NIGHT. 

The Prophet sliimber'd. Four quarternion files 

Of Kome's best warriors, cuish'd and curass'd, lay 

Warding the body of one feeble man, 

His crime — too ardent in his Master's cause ; 

Too bold to preach and inculcate the Truth ; 

'Till in his sovereign ministry pursued 

And led dishonor'd through the hooting streets 

He met the cognizance of mock Justiceship, 

And the rude goaler's mercy. Peter slept ; 

So deep immured, that he knew not when 

The sable drapery of the Night was drawn 

Around the drowsy city: but he felt 

The strong demand of Nature for repose, 

And on the slimy bottom of his cell 

Outstretch'd his weary limbs. 'Twas then when Sleep, 

The calm twin sister of lethean Death, 

Had sooth'd solicitude to voiceless peace. 

And softly seal'd the Prophet's aching eyes ; 

'Twas then, the seraph in his robes of light 

Bent o'er the prostrate sleeper, and in tones 

So clear and sweet yet full of magic force, 

Commanded him to rise, and hasten forth ; 

And lo! the iron gate unbar'd and wide 

Outswung while Heaven's bright phasm led the way. 



VI. 



Then cometh Jesus with them unto a place called Gethsemane ; and saith 
unto the disciples, Sit ye here, while I go and pray yonder.— Matt. xxvi. 3(5. 

'TwAS IN THE NIGHT, o'cr Kidron's babbling stream 
To lone Gethsemane, with its idive grove, 
Our Sovereign Lord and Paraclete retird, 
To engage in silent prayer. The summer moon 
Shone soft and limpid through her starry train 
Which, in their spheres, with gemmy radiency 
Twinkled like ligures in the distant heavens. 
The proud old city in her slumber lay, 



VISIONS OF THE NIGHT. 63 

Wrapp'd in the lustre of that liquid sky, 

Sublime but fortuneless. O'er whom in speechless grief 

The loving spirit of a Savior mourn'd. 

She lay oblivious ; and the bickering lights 

No longer burn'd between the million'd bars 

Of stately palaces. Her proud artistic show, 

The rare and costly product of that clime 

Where Art first flourish'd, had been all transferr'd 

Beyond the reach of pilfery. The shawls 

And scarfs of Cashmere ; and the glossy silk 

Of Syrian texture ; with the gaudy plumes 

Of Afric, purchased with the gold of Ind. 

Syene's rare phylacteries, and the sweet. 

O'er redolent gums of distant Araby. 

Each of the motly traffickers to rest 

Had long retir'd, and silence reigned supreme. 

The turban'd Moslem with imperious stride, 

Proudly disdainful of the Christian throng : 

The graceful Arab whose quick roving eye, 

Flashes and glitters like a polished Jet : 

The careworn Hebrew, with his hangman's cap, 

And avarice lurking in his eye, intent 

On cunning barter with some Gentile dog : 

The Armenian Christian, with long flowing robe 

Of dark and sombre hue, himself sedate : 

The strutting Persian, superfinely gay 

In garb and bearing. Stalking by whose side, 

Comes the Circassian in his chain cuirass, 

And raven elflocks flowing to his loin. 

The Georgian maiden, beautiful and fair, 

As Othman's fabled houri. Next in rank 

The wild Dongolian dusky from the Nile, 

Or trading merchant from remote Senaar. 

Through the lone gate our Savior wander'd forth 

And, on the steeps of Olivet, bending low 

Pour'd forth his soul in supplicating pray'r ; 

While the pale planets of the night looked down 

Upon the blood drops trickling from his brow ; 

And, in the sorrowful travail of his heart ; 



64 VISIONS OF THE NIGHT. 

The bitter language of the Cross itself 
Could scarce express hia solitary grief; 
"Eloi, Eln, lama mbachihani ! 

VII. 

In that night was Belshazzer the king of the Chaldeans slain.— Dak. v. 30. 

TwAS IN THE NIGHT, ill Babvloii's roval hall 

When sordid mirth presided ; and obscene 

Foul-fac'd and impious reveliy, engag'd 

With her red goblet Chaldia's drunken king. 

When thousands pledg'd him in the sparkling draught 

Of crimson nectar from the streaming press 

Of Syria's purple vintage ; and the harp 

The pleasing symbal, and the galliard pipe, 

Tymbal and dulcimer gave forth a sound 

Of softest melody ; while fair minikins mov'd 

To featly measures in the giddy dance. 

Bright Oriental sylphs, whose raven locks 

Softly luxuriant, cluster'd round the orbs 

Of melting tenderness, or passionate fire. 

The pouting smile, the lecherous caress. 

The silvery laugh, the lover's stolen glance 

'Keath drooping lids, the fair be-jeweled arm, 

Tlie showy garlands, and the flashing gleam 

That fell from thousand lamps along the wall, 

All show'd where pleasure held her royal court. 

Then when the monarch, all inflam'd with wine, 

In tones of thunder, bade his vassals bring 

The golden vessels that his sire had brought 

From Jewry's fallen and desecrated fanes ; 

And, from the Chalice of the annointed priest, 

Pour'd forth his deep libation to the Gods 

Of brass and stone ; while, with the strains of praise, 

Fair Beauty fills her sweetly whispering strings. 

And Battle chariots, trumpet tongued, without 

Clang forth the peans of his royal fame. 

Twas then the ominous Hand refulgent shone, 



VISIONS OF THE NIGHT. 66 

And trac'd in characters of living light 
But dark portent, the umpropitious doom 
Of proud Belehazzer and his brilliant host. 



VIII. 

And In the fourth watch of the night, Jesus went unto them walking on the 
sea.— Matt. xiv. 25. 

'TwAS IN THE NIGHT, on Galilee's stormy wave ; 

Waters on waters rolling, and the wind 

From the torn clouds loud whistling o'er the deep, 

Lent wild distraction to the scene. The storm 

Smote with fierce fury the distressed bark, 

In which the lonely and despairing band 

With fruitless toil essay'd to reach the shore. 

When from the rattling crag and hollow gorge, 

The hoarse ton'd thunder sounded, and the flash 

Of forked lightning darting down the sky, 

Illum'd the lurid visage of the heavens. 

When stout heart's quail'd, and anxious eyes were turn'd 

From each to each with mute appealing gaze, 

But seeing naught, save when the phosphorous gleam 

Disclos'd the pallor of a daunted face. 

'Twas then, Avith footsteps floating on the sea, 

They saw what seeni'd an ocean spirit sent 

As a lone minister of fate. 'Till soft 

And sweet as whisper of th' Eolian lute. 

Yet rising clear above the sounding storm, 

The tender greeting broke upon their ears, 

"Be not afraid mv children, it is I!" 



66 ADVERTISEMENT. 



ADVERTISEMENT. 

The following work was commenced without a poetical plot of 
any kind ; it being the author's purpose to produce in prose, but in 
as romantic a form as the subject would warrant, a brief defence, not 
of the conduct, but nature and disposition of the North American 
Indians ; having from a somewhat critical observation of their habits, 
both in rude and semi-civilized life, early predisposed my mind to 
an opinion, regarding their mildness and benevolence, rather more 
favorable than that usually received. But, after the inception of the 
work, difficulties of various kinds presenting themselves, I was in- 
duced to abandon the design ; and the stanzas which followed, being 
the passing suggestions of the moment, could not reasonably be ex- 
pected to present a very creditable appearance under the somewhat 
serious title of a poem. 



THE LORDS OF THE ALLODIUM. 67 



The Lords of the ^llodium, 



INTRODUCTION. 

Our scene opens in the wilds of Montana, where, upon the mar- 
gin of the mighty Missouri, stands an unpretentious log cabin, from 
whose heavily timbered roof a thick volume of smoke is rising, 
which, considering the cold and inclemency of the atmosphere, is a 
fair index to the comfort within ; whither, gentle reader, we will now 
conduct you. 

A crackling fagot is blazing upon the hearth, and three forms are 
disposed within its flickering illumination. The first, an old man of 
about three score clad in the primitive costume of the pioneers, those 
wandering nimrods of the west, the story of whose lives though very 
unsalutary aliment for the poet has nourished for the last twenty or 
thirty lustrums the minds of America's greatest novelists, was seated 
in the centre, his gray locks thrown back upon a brow whose grand 
expressions of intellect and refinement, accorded but ill with the rude 
character of the surroundings. 

To his right was a handsome youth of some four and twenty sum- 
mers, in the modish garb of an Eastern society man; but happily 
destitute of all those foppish characteristics which of late years have 
so largely invaded the politest circles of republican gentility ; and 
to his left the shaggy figure of a powerful and truculent-looking dog, 
in breed, a cross between the newfoundland and mastiff, a paragon 
of his species, to whom the biting ofl' of a man's leg would lie in the 
regard of diversion rather than labor. From the suspicious and side- 
long glances which he occasionally cast towards the person last spoken 
of, it was plain that the youth stood not upon the same footing of 
familiarity as the first and eldest member of the party, who, we may 
as well inform the reader, lest the wedge of his curiosity split his 
patience, is mine host himself; whose servants are his rifle and hunt- 
ing knife, his associate and comrade, the gigantic canine aforesaid • 
and his guest pro tempore^ the youth, whom, in the common privilege 
of every father, we will denominate Roger Olwynn. 



68 THE LORDS OF THE ALLODIUM. 

The cold and piercing wind of a November night swept howl- 
ing through the leafless branches of the forest ; and a heavy snow 
storm having set in, the air was blinded with innumerable feathery 
particles which clinging for a moment to the bare trunks against which 
they were driven, whitened the cheerless prospect, and then, swirled 
away by the increasing violence of the blast, found their final rest- 
ing place in the bosom of the valley or rocky gorges of the moun- 
tains. 

The old hunter, who had remained silent for some time, unwil- 
ling perhaps to interrupt the cogitations of his friend, now requested 
him to relate the errand upon which he had come to the West ; as 
his appearance did not certainly denote the necessities of labor, and 
it was somewhat strange that a person so poorly provisioned for the 
dangers and privations which a journey through that comparatively 
uninhabited country occasioned, should be found alone, and so far 
for aught he knew to the contrary, from any human habitation. 

Roger Olwynn was a man who, whether he had found the Muse 
of History ready inspired from the fountain of Castalia, or whether 
he desired to vary the measure of his discourse for the commodity 
of his hearers, had a most peculiar lenchant for alternating the 
fruits of memory and imagination, the result of which was a strange 
medley of poetry and prose in any recitation whatsoever ; and now, 
at the request of his host, forthwith delivered himself, like the min- 
strel Feramorz in the Veiled Prophet of Khorassan, of the following 
narrative, infinitely more fearless of the strictures of a Faladeen in 
the person of his auditor, than the present compiler is of the antici- 
pated carping of a certain phlegmatic monster, which writers de- 
nominate The Public. 



THE LORDS OF THE ALLODIUM. 69 

CANTO FIRST. 

THE STRANGER'S STORY. 



I. 

Fiv»m Walla Walla, west of Idaho, 
Remotely seated nigh the Pacific coast, 
Where lone Columbia's winding waters flow 
And in the Willamette or Kooshoosky lost, 
Or down the cataracts of the Owyhee tost. 
Water the fruitful plains of Oregon ; 
A w^eary caravan of traders crost 
The rocky Alps, whose snow crown' d summits shone 
As Arve's towering king, rearing his sun-bright zone, 

II. 

O'er dim Chamouni's vale, whose fields of ice 
And mountain glaciers, resting far above 
The crystal throned transparencies, suffice 
To fill the soul with grandeur, awe and love. 

III. 

The ridge was pass'd, and evening threw 
Her starless mantle o'er the voiceless plain ; 
And with the gloom more anxious grew 
Each heart that watch'd the halting train. 

A fire was kindled, for the cold had chilled the weary limbs of 
the travelers, and within its flickering circle, with the cattle and 
conveyances surrounding them in the form of a crescent, they gath- 
ered in momentary apprension of an attack from the roving bands 
of hostile Indians, with which that wild and uncivilized territory 
abounds. 



70 THE LORDS OF THE ALLODIUM. 

Nor were their fears unfounded ; for before the moon had reached 
her zenith, tlie drowsy company were aroused to a sense of their 
peril by the shrill and fierce war hoop of the Choctows ; Avho, 
mounted on their fleet mustangs, some fifty in number, sent a 
whistling shower of arrows to proclaim their dreaded presence to the 
children of the pale faces. 

There is perhaps no race of people upon the globe who possess a 
finer appreciation of kindness and affection than the Indian ; and none 
in whom the vandal passion of revenge burns with more fury when 
aroused by one act of falsehood or infidelity ; for the mind, unedu- 
cated to the christian motto of good for evil, can only measure the 
extent of human justice by the magnitude of the offence, and severity 
of the punishment. 

Can it then be wondered at, that a race of beings, possessors of a 
soil which, in the earliest period of their traditionary history, was 
looked upon as the direct gift of an all kind and powerful Manitou, 
a race who consider the white man in the character of a lawless in- 
vader ; who, by force of arms would drive out or extirpate the right- 
ful owners; and establish the sanguine monarchy of Injustice, upon 
the desolated throne of Divine Right. 

Can it be wondered at, we repeat, that this people should struggle 
to maintain the heritage bequeathed to their forelathers? and, if too 
weak to withstand in honorable warfare the incroachments of a race 
themselves disgraced by frequent acts of treachery and deceit, to re- 
taliate with a barbarity which their condition palliates, and forget, if 
they ever felt, ihe sovereign attribute of mercy in dealing with those 
whom mercy no longer directs. 

The horrible massacre of the brave and dashing young cavalry- 
man. General Custer, and his two hundred and sixty comrades, on the 
25th of June, 1876, is one of the latest in the long list, which, in the 
records of history, shall stand as a terrible evidence, not so much of 
the abandoned and blood thirsty disposition of the Indian^, as of the 
imprudent and rash policy of the Government in dealing with them. 



IV. 



hu\ one was spar'd of that devoted band,' 
To see, wliile pinioned on his faithful steed, 
The midnight spoilers at their chief's command 



THE LORDS OF THE ALLODIUM. 

Rush to the slaughter with infernal greed ; 
And all his brave defenceless comrades bleed 
With groans of dying agonv ; while the bright 
And forked flame that crown'd the awful deed, 
And o'er the demon darkness cast its light, 
Blaz'd round the blistering dead and lit the ebon night. 



One lone survivor, destined to await 
The racks of lingering torment, 'neath the eye 
Of some fierce savage ; and with suffering sate 
His fiendish malice haply ere he die 
'Mid the red fagots, where his parting cry, 
The soul's last murmur ere it upward start. 
Should from the hollow tongues of Mockery fl^ 
Nor move to tears one sympathetic heart ; 
But joy o'er himian woe, hell's blackest, foulest art. 



VI. 



Away they sped, their work of carnage done. 
Like evil spirits from their meeting place 
They bore their pris'ner, till the dappled dawn 
Glow'd with a saffron tincture in each face, 
Painted and tawny in its silent race. 
Through fair Wyoming's plains they dash'd away, 
By Fremont's Peak, and thro' the Southern Pa.ss; 
Nor rein'd their steeds till, duskily and gray, 
The shades of eve once more usurp'd the realm of Da; 



VII. 

Then with the forray, at an Indian vill 
That nestles low upon the sloping side 
With sunshine rob'd of Uintah's hoary hill, 
Beside a stream whose sparkling waters glide 



72 THE LORDS OF THE ALLODIUM. 

Twixt alpine sierras, Avhose summits hide 
The Golden City in her silent nest, 
The band dismounting, wearied -with their ride, 
Each rock in that wild valley of the AVest 
Rang with the savage yell, that broke the sleepers' rest. 

A roughly constructed wigwam, of poles and matted bark, but very 
securely planned withal, was set apart for the captive's accommoda- 
tion ; and there his bleached visage and strange attire were the sub- 
ject of curious comment on the part of the squaws, who, with their 
papooses, came in groups to criticise the strange lu.sus naturae^ and 
amuse themselves with sundry pranks at his expense ; Avhich, with the 
interminable gallimatia of the juvenile portion of the community, in 
a few days made him look upon even death with less aversion than 
a lifetime spent in such a state and condition. 

A convocation of the sachems had, he knew, already been holdcn 
upon the question of how he was to be disposed of; and, although 
he understood not a syllable of tlie language, it appeared from the 
significant gestures of the majority, for few except Englishmen speak 
without gesticulation, that death was the most favorable sentence. 



VIII. 

But in those days he saw another sight. 
A lovely figure and a syren face, 
Hovering around his prison, like a sprite 
Of inimitable beauty, dignity and grace. 
And one who midst the rudeness bore a trace 
Of civilization ; and the gentle mein 
Of holier culture, and a higher place, 
Though o'er that brow once happy might be seen 
The shades of sorrow spread where brightest smiles had been. 

• IX. 

Thrice had he seen the sylphid, and each time 
She gaz'd upon him Avith compassionate eye ; 
A captive, fetter'd for no deeper crime 



THE LORDS OF THE ALLODIUM. 

Than brave defence of right, and doom'd to die. 
His lot was sorrowful, yet he knew not why 
Her holy presence fill'd him with delight ; 
lie look'd to her with hope, for hope will fly 
O'er darkest spirits with its heavenly light, 
And from its sacred shrine put foul despair to flight. 



But at last the season of his death had been appointed ; and his 
guardian angel, with an air of deepest sorrow and anxiety upon her 
beautiful countenance, came to inform him of the fact ; and, bidding 
him prepare for the terrible ordeal of the morrow, withdrew ; leaving 
him to await the solemn realization of eternity, and picture with his 
fancy the sorrowful faces of his parents and friends, met in the deso- 
late home of his boyhood to mourn for the lost and unknown. 



XI. 

Yes, far beyond where ocean's billows lave 
Fair freedom's isle, he saw a mother bend 
In deep consuming grief; a father rave 
Over his fallen hope : A sister lend 
Her meek accompaniment ; and many a friend 
Pour love's warm tribute o'er his vacant tomb ; 
While he should die with no kind ear to attend 
His parting whisper, or from death's dark gloom 
Convey the spirits' charge back to his native home. 



XII. 

An airy figure glided thro' the door 

And sought his presence, while his heart stood still ; 

For it seemed a seraph, beautiful and pure, 

And held his soul obedient to its will. 

The same fair face that made his bosom thrill, 

Seen like a lovely dryad of the wood 



74 THE LORDS OF THE ALLODIUM. 

Or dancing naiad of some classic rill, 
Now on his last lone vigil did intrude 
And cheer'd with gladdening words his sad and sleepless mood. 



XIII. 

Hist, stranger ! Silence, or your doom is sealed ; 
In yonder wigwam sleeps the sagamore; 
And should he lind me, Heaven could scarcely shield 
The frail Omeme from his vengful power ; 
And you should perish, haply in this hour, 
Beneath the weapons of his warriors bold. 
I come to save from death th' Caucassian fiow'r, 
In whose fair face my girlhood I behold, 
Though many a bitter tear hath o'er that memory roll'd. 



XIV. 

Y'our horse is tethered in yon ferny wood. 
Mount him and fly, and fortune speed your flight I 
You have a home, and if perchance you should 
Frustrate the fury of your foes to-night, 
When the lost scenes of childhood greet your sight. 
Remember then the lonely forest maid ! 
Too mournful now, though once her soid Avas light 
Or e'er she sought the forest's dismal shade, 
And left the pleasant fields where youth's glad footsteps stray'd. 



XV. 

T know the price of freedom ; Stranger haste ! 
Take yonder pathway through the thicket gray. 
I will not broach my history, it Avould waste 
The precious moments, and your flight delay. 
Four hours elapse before the dawn of day, 
The guard is slumbering and the moments fly ; 



THE LORDS OF THE ALLODIUM. 75 

So swift should you, for dangers throng the way, 
Haste, prisoner ! haste ! I would not see thee die, 
Too young art thou to lose life, love and liberty. 



XVI. 

The captive bow'd but utter'd not a word, 
She led him spellbound through the sleeping throng ; 
But once she touch'd him, as she cut the cord 
That bound his wrists, and in that touch, a strong 
And strange enchantment thrill'd his nerves along, 
And thoughts of bliss he never felt before 
Within his passionate soul to being sprung ; 
And gave a foretaste of that mystic power 
Which moves all hearts alike, love's first and sweetest hour. 

In the cold light of the morning the fugitive hurried on, whither 
he knew not, but filled with the burning thoughts to which his late 
romantic adventure had given rise. He had promised the maiden 
that, should his flight prove successful, he would seize the earliest 
opportunity to return and rescue her from the power of the savages 
among whom she had fallen ; and now his mind was wholly occupied 
with the scheme of hastening that happy moment ; for, since he had 
seen and conversed with her, he felt that he had indeed a twofold 
purpose in life. Nay even that his captivity in her presence, with 
out the danger of death, would be far sweeter than freedom in ban- 
ishment ; and it was only to the end of obtaining both, that he nerved 
himself to meet the dangers with which he was surrounded. In the 
midst of a wilderness, without food save what his hands provided ; 
far, he knew not how far, from any human habitation ; his horse al- 
most overcome with the fatigue of his journey, he might well tremble. 

Dark clouds began to gather in the West, and, rising up slowly, 
obscured the entire face of the heavens ; while the wind, freshening 
from the same quarter, sent the feathery flakes whirling around the 
weary traveler ; who, along with his other miseries, had noAV to face 
the blinding violence of a western snow-storm. 

His faithful horse, at last completely worn out, was left, but nut 
without sincere sorrow, to the mercy of the elements ; and with that 



76 THE LORDS OF THE ALLODIUM. 

inward sinking the forerunner of despair, which few mortals have 
not felt at some period of life, the traveler struggled on, weary, cold 
and weak, until when hope had well-nigh forsaken him, he saw, or 
fancied he saw, through the densely serried descending particles the 
faint glimmering of a light, following which he found, in a rude cabin 
in the wilderness, that which is less common in society than many 
suppose— a friend — before whom he now stands to render thanks for 
his kindness and hospitality. 

XVII. 

The stranger's utterance ceas'd, and died away 
In the dull moaning of the midnight wind ; 
While the old hunter ponder' d, and a ray 
Of holiest light seem'd breaking o'er his mind, 
But only vague, and partially defin'd. 
As if he strove to gather from the past 
A dim remembrance, whence his soul might find 
Some latent joy to make life's journey blest, 
And light from cold despair love's torch within his breast. 

XVIII. 

You seem amaz'd, at length he softly spoke, 
But in this soul some chords of feeling dwell ; 
Your tender story touched them, and awoke 
A music, gentle as th' Eolian shell. 
When on the ear its first sweet cadence fell ; 
And Hope's young whisper fills my waking mind 
To the dim centre of its secret cell ; 
A nameless joy, returneth undetin'd 
And lights the darken'd shrine it long ago resign'd, 

XIX. 

Y''our days are yet too few to comprehend 

A parent's fond aflfection for his child, 

His only child, and one whose love might lend 



THE LORDS OF THE ALLODIUM. 77 

A purer charm to life ; for, undefil'd, 
And with a spirit never scath'd nor soil'd 
With base born thoughts, but innocent as in birtli, 
And by the prudery of the world unspoil'd, 
She learn'd one creed of unadulterate worth — 
True worship to her God, and love to all on earth. 



XX. 



But give attention, you shall hear my 'tale 
Of gloomy tragedy, and strange romance ; 
And if its crimes and many mysteries fail 
To move you to concernment, we may glance 
At softer features, and with love enchance 
A harsher theme, that might displease your ear; 
But if devoid of interest still, perchance 
"With poisonous envy moderate the whole, 
Xnd grace with simple truth, what sin and crime make foul. 



CANTO SECOND. 



THE HUNTER'S STORY. 



Upon the banks of Dee, in Britain's isle, 
There rose a lordly mansion, tall and grand ; 
Whose mirror'd reflected many a smile 
On rosy cheeks, and happy faces, fan'd 
By the soft gales of that salubrious land, 
Where sweet contentment sleeps in every cot, 
However rude and lowly it may stand ; 
And glorious freedom is the general lot, 
Though some thro' private wrongs alas ! possess it act. 



78 THE LORDS OF THE ALLODIUM. 

11. 

In this same mansion dwelt a noble race, 
Who had been honored in the time gone by 
With kingly notice ; and the antique place 
So quaint and curious to the outward eye, 
Still held the couch where Beauclerc once did lie ; 
Whose jeweled falchion grac'd the glittering wall, 
When Brenville's king, and lord of Tenchebrai, 
With all his nobles throng'd the festal hall 
And danc'd a jig perchance, at Fontenoy's brilliant ball. 



III. 



Baron DeGourney was of Norman blood, 
A feudal lord who, in the early strife 
With Saxon Harold, for the Conqueror stood, 
And, in his cause, made of'ring of his life 
On Senlac's bloody hill, 'mid carnage rife. 
Leaving a noble lineage to uphold 
The martial glory of the fallen chief — 
Two gallant sons who bore the bloody fold 
Of France's red-cross flag 'gainst Paynim warriors bold. 



IV. 



They too expired in Robert's war worn train. 
Battling for fallen justice and the right, 
On Palestina's red and trampled plain ; 
But 'ere their eyes were closed upon the fight, 
They saw the Saracen foemen in wild flight, 
Their crescent banner trailing soil'd and torn, 
And many a proud and kirtled Moslem wight, 
In the stern service of the Sol dan worn, 
Sink on the field of strife, pierc'd bleeding, and forlorn. 



THE LORDS OF THE ALLODIUM. 79 

V. 

Such records egg posterity to be brave, 
And Fontenoy's orgilous progeny bore the name; 
They hated tyranny, but despis'd the slave, 
And, like the fiery stock from whence they came, 
\Vould sell their ethics for the wreath of fame ; 
Boasting the tenants their ancestors taught — 
That naught was noble but war's doubtful game — 
They loved in life a soldier's glorious lot, 
And when they fell they wish'd a sepulchre where they fought. 



VI. 



They also lov'd the riot and the fea.st, 
The sparkling wine, and saturnalian sport ; 
And woman, lovely woman, not the least 
Among their earthly idols, did they court. 
And F'ontenoy's halls were made the gay resort 
Of many a votarist of the giddy dance ; 
Where belted bachanals of the higher sort, 
Of England's baronage, and noblesse of France, 
Sana: in the davs of war, of chivalrv, and romance. 



VII. 



Legends there were, and strange traditions rife, 
But what they told it boots not me to say; 
The patch'd up tales of some pragmatic wife, 
Concerning mysteries of the olden day. 
Fancies that lead the credulous mind astray, 
That songs and laughter oft disturb'd the night 
When lord and menial in their slumber lay, 
And clashing steel as if in furious fight, 
With mingled shrieks and groans, and ghostlv gleams of light. 



80 THE LORDS OF THE ALLODIUM. 

VIII. 

But oft in childhood's memory have I heard, 
That Fontenoy's bridal chamber was the room 
Whence the strange clamor issued, and a bird, 
A glossy raven, flutter'd thro' the gloom 
Once in the year — upon the night of doom, 
When GeofFery Gourney fought beside his bride, 
Till the gray dawn disclosed him stark and dumb 
And in his pulseless bosom, gaping wide, 
A fresh and gory wound, by which the lord had died. 



IX. 



Upon the morrow he was laid to rest ; 
Some legal disquisition soon got o'er, 
A little whisper, carefully suppress'd, 
And all went merry as it did before. 
The widow'd lady sought a foreign shore. 
And lack'd they not an owner for the name ; 
The blood was drench'd upon the chamber floorj 
And Fontenoy's dignity survived the shame; 
Another master bore his titles and his fame. 



And Bertram Gourney was the twelfth in line 
From ancient Geoffery of so dark a doom ; 
And, full of years he felt he must resign 
His honored station, for the silent tomb. 
But christian hope did dissipate his gloom ; 
For if the bliss of his eternal fate 
Hung on his gold, 'tis righteous to assume 
His dear bought Ave Marias would abate, 
Jn his own mind at least, the punishments that await. 



; 
THE LORDS OF THE ALLODIUM. 81 



XI 



And Hubert was his heir ; a hopeful boy, 
And one on whom he fix'd his doting heart 
With more than parent fondness ; 'twas his joy- 
To see him grasp his glaive and act the part 
Of Greek Achilles, with well practiced art, 
And in his helmet and deft hauberk dress'd, 
His polish'd cuish and vantbrace would impart 
A manly bearing to a boyish breast, 
Nerv'd with no martial strength, but all a warrior's zest. 



XII. 

Ronald, the younger, was a gentle lad, 
Reserv'd and serious, and of studious mien ; 
No emulous thirst for soldiership he had, 
And in the ranks of fashion rarely seen. 
He loved seclusion, for his soul was clean, 
And fear'd not to reflect upon its state ; 
And in the shady walks and arbors green, 
With book or crayon oftentimes he sate, 
'Till everv bird in the bower did claim him for its mate. 



XIII. 

And, fretful of limits hortulan, he would stroll 
Long hours alone thro' Fontenoy's streamy park; 
Or on some beautiful and grassy knoll 
Recumbent stretch, amused much to mark 
The gambols of the fawn, or watch the lark 
Soar perpendicular till she pierc'd the blue 
Empyreal vista, where the bended arc 
Conceal'd the speck in its empurpled hue, 
Then like a meteor sink impetuous to the view. 



82 THE LORDS OF THE ALLODIUM. 

XIV. 

The wild gazelle had learn'd his tenderness, 
And, bounding sportive, ran at his command, 
Yielding its graceful neck to his caress, 
It half forgot its Arab master's hand; 
And Jordan's sunny banks, and Juda's strand, 
Adown whose fertile slopes and vallies free, 
It quench'd its thirst from many a gushing stream ; 
And now it found a sweet captivitie, 
For love hath charms to make a dungeon seem 
Fairer than freedom is, without its golden gleam. 



XV. 



Once, when he stray'd beyond his Avonted round 
On the wild margin of the winding Dee, 
With thoughtful mein, and eye that sought the ground, 
A startled cry arous'd his reverie ; 
He saw a maiden with her dark toupee 
Drench'd like the locks of Neptune's fabled queen, 
In shallop pictured on> the briny sea. 
And on the sweeping current's silver sheen 
face of heavenlv mould, no lovelier e'er was seen. 



XVI. 

Drifting unconscious on the pittiless tide 
She came, and passion made his spirit brave ; 
And while she sank quick heav'd his panting side 
As, diving swiftly 'neath the angry wave. 
He bore her senseless from a yawning grave. 
And this is how their primal meeting came. 
Which, oft recurring, mutual pleasure gave — 
The lady loved— the boy returned the flame. 
And at the altar she assumed DeGourney's noble name. 



THE LORDS OF THE ALLODIUM. 83 

XVII. 

But she was poor ; a fortuneless defect, 
With old Sir Bertram, of his liniage proud; 
He stormed and swore to give his words eflect, 
That were the bride with Paphian charms endow'd, 
She was a paltry plebeian, and he vow'd 
By every power of darkness and of light, 
The wayward Ronald would be disallow'd 
The poor bequest and benefit of a mite. 
Much less the portion of his patrimonial right. 

XVIII. 

Hubert, the favor'd grew to man's estate ; 
Favor' d, for parents have ofttimes their pet, 
And found in rich society a mate. 
But one he soon found reason to regret. 
And well it were the twain had never met. 
For he was passionate, and she was pert. 
And gave her wedded lord unceasing fret. 
With tricks that best become a wanton flirt, 
'Till green-ey'd jealousy reigned licentious in his heart. 



XIX. 

Sir Bertram died ; and round his ornate bier, 
His kin assembled on the burial morn. 
With kerchief's lab'ring to entice the tear 
'Twixt lids unwilling and unwont to mourn. 
Wishing the dull old cortege would return, — 
'Twas nigh the season they were wont to dine — 
The cook was stupid, and the roast might burn — 
Ah ! poor Sir Bertram — wonder if the wine 
Was sent from Wreford's— How such sorrows rounds us twine. 



84 THE LORDS OF THE ALLODIUM. 

XX. 

Sir Hubert now presided at the board, 
Flattered and woo'd by all, yet loved by none 
Of those who shared the largess of his hoard ; 
For in the gayest throng he sate alone. 
With look that froze the kind familiar tone, 
And every vassal fear'd him, for he knew 
That direful wrath would follow every frown, 
And on his features, comely once, there grew 
A look of scornful arrogance, repulsive to the view. 



XXI. 

Pride holds her footing in the hearts of all : 
And Hubert's title, with its vast domain. 
His varlet band obedient to his call, 
His yelping kennel, and his hunting train ; 
His sire's renown upon the battle plain, 
And every grace that rank or gold can buy 
To gild our faldstool for a season's reign, 
Might well provoke the passion, therefore why 
Should Hubert not be proud as Lord of Fonteroy ? 



XXII. 

But Ah ! weird Sorrow did assail his heart, 
When in the dust he laid his laughing bride, 
The lovely Rosalind, whose witching art 
And petulant mind had drawn him to her side. 
And tho' she wounded his puissant pride 
With unseemly follies, till his soul would fume, 
Now, in his grief, he felt his spirit tried 
By retributive Justice, and in lonely gloom 
He long'd to sleep with her, low in the silent tomb. 



THE LORDS OF THE ALLODIUM. 85 

XXIII. 

The sun rose sparkling on the dewy lawn 
One happy morning in the month of May ; 
And round the manor house, at peep of dawn, 
The whistling swains went plodding on their way. 
Each had his task assigned him for the day, 
And went to it merrily, for he felt more joy 
Among the golden corn and tedded hay; 
Than Hubert Gourney, Fortune's pamper'd toy 
And chief of all who thronged the halls of Fontenoy. 

XXIV. 

The night before had been a brilliant feast ; 
A bright farago of the brave and fair ; 
And Bertram's scion revel'd not the least 
Among the debauchees assembled there. 
Nor had he worn so sybaritic air 
Since lovely Kosalind had been laid to rest; 
It seem'd he strove to disposess his care. 
And make amusement for each dissolute guest 
With many a bumper pledg'd, and gay vivacious jest. 



XXV. 

And that fair morning had been set apart 
For forest pastime in the ardent race ; 
And many a gallant huntsman felt his heart 
Burn to obtain the trophies of the chase. 
And many a lady, with a smiling face, 
Heard the old forester wind his bugle horn, 
And the shrill beagle, barking in his place, 
While, to the lofty chamber windows borne. 
The sprightly carol rose upon the breeze of morn. 



THE LORDS OF THE ALLODIUM. 

Awaken fair ladies, brave barons awake, 
From his kennel the fox looketh over the lea ; 
And laughs as he whisks thro' the covert and brake- 
What sluggards the sons of the Fontenoys be. 



The sunlight kisses the dew^-- blade. 

And the pricket bounds thro' the leafy shade. 

Where the chrj'stal stream 

With its shooting gleam, 

Like a silver cord is laid. 



The clamorous hounds from the' couples are freed : 
The coursers are waiting with housing secur'd ; 
And the brach, bounding eagerly over the mead. 
Bays deep by the sniff of the quarry allur'd. 

The morn is bright over vale and height, 

And the hare looks back in her limping flight 

O'er her path thro' the grassy lea : 

And bends her ear 

To the wind with fear. 
For the huntsman's loud hullo, and the bugle's trill-a-lee. 



In battle the heart of the warrior may bound, 
When the clarions bray and the culverins roar ; 
But the twang of the hunt is a musical sound. 
And pleases the soul of the forester more. 

When the welkin round, and the woods resound 
With the mingled music of horn and hound ; 
Then mount and awaj', then mount and away. 
The sun hath davvn'd on a merry day. 



XXVI. 

The butler loiter'd in the castle gate, 
As to the hunt the barons pass'd along ; 
And, with a face portending some dire fate, 
Address'd Lord Hubert with a trembling tongi.ie. 
" My noble master ! while you yet were young, 
In boyhood's hours, I led you by the hand. 
Rhyming the prophecy that the minstrel sung 
Of Gourney's race, illustrious and grand, 
In whose proud veins doth run the nobility of tlie land. 



THE LORDS OF THE ALLODIUM. 87 

When on Sir Geoffery's chamber wall, 
And on his Bridal Bed, 
The stream, that from his wounds did fall 
By hands inhuman shed, 

Turns red, 
Beware^ the Lord of Gourney a Hall, 
That day shall see thee dead. 

XXVII. 

Strange sounds last night did mar my wonted peace, 
Unearthly laughter, revelry and mirth ; 
As if the ghosts of all De Gourney's race, 
With flowing bumpers round th' ancestral hearth, 
Held midnight carnival o'er the scenes of earth, 
And anon, as bachanals of flesh and blood, 
The fiery potions gave contention birth, 
And broke the bonds of festive brotherhood. 
With many a fierce debate and unforgotten feud. 

XXVIII. 

No guest reposed upon the bridal bed. 
Nor limb hath press'd its drapery since the day 
When on the walls, in many a tincture red. 
The reeking blood of old Sir GeoflTery lay. 
And yet this morn, the sun's ascending ray 
Reveal'd a scene of deeper, darker dread ; 
For, though long ages that have pass'd away 
With him, have given his memory to the dead, 
That stream upon the floor appear'd a iiewly shed. 

XXIX. 

Wherefore, my lord, I pray thee to forsake 
This day the hunt, for danger lurketh nigh 
'Tis perilous sport, and harm may overtake 
Where neither harm nor danger we espy. 
Long lease of life hath given to my eye 
Prophetic vision; but I fain would see 



88 THE LORDS OF THE ALLODIUM. 

My liege vouchsaf d long lustrums to enjoy 
His rich estate, and lordly luxury, 
The proud and pleasant rank of gallant company." 

XXX. 

The loiding look'd with arrogant disdain 
Upon his faithful monitor, in whose word 
He saw the seeds of superstition vain, 
Beneath the pure refinement of a lord. 
An idle whim-wham, that could ne'er afford, 
To minds like his, that never felt a fear, 
And with the ornature of science stor'd, 
A theme for aught but ridicule, and the sneer 
That dries in Scorn's proud eye, the spirit's softer tear. 

XXXI. 

From the wild braken and the forest shade. 
The sound of horn and twanging bowstring came 
In noisy tumult, while adown the glade, 
Swift as the sunlight, sped the startled game. 
And many a stag fell 'neath the archer's aim. 
While with the mingled rout the woodland rung ; 
And many a rosy lass and sprightly dame. 
With bended crossbow at their saddles slung, 
O'er rocks and broad mouth'd dykes, upon their palfreys sprung. 

XXXII. 

That day young Ronald sat upon a crag, 
Sketching the rock-bound valley, dark and green ; 
And, ever and anon, his hand would lag, 
While his artistic eye drank in the scene. "^ 

Long had he sat ; and longer had he been, 
But that the deepening shades of evening drew 
A veil opacous o'er the vernal sheen, 
And hid the folious prospect from his view ; 
While each green glittering blade did drink the falling dew. 



THE LORDS OF THE ALLODIUM. 89 

XXXIII. 

Musing, as homeward thro' the coppice dense 
He walk'd, upon the hapless course he led ; 
His mean dependence on the source from whence 
He drew the paltry pittance of his bread. 
.He flush'd with shame, but grieved not that he wed 
The plebeian Eleanor ; but upraided fate 
That clothed him thus with indigence instead 
Of rightful rank and affluence, but to hate 
Hubert, he could not tho' half envying his state. 

XXXIV. 

Sudden he stop'd, a low and burdenous moan •« 
Upon his startled ear lugubrious broke ; 
A sound betwixt a whisper and a groan, 
That came from out the thickets tangled nook. 
And oft the feeble breathing seemed to choke, 
As if the pangs of mortal agony, 
Precursing what no remedy might revoke, 
Strove to evert the vital energy. 
To quench the struggling flame, and set the spirit free. 

XXXV. 

Some fawn, he thought, which bleeding hath escap'd 
With partial mischief from the sportsman's bows ; 
And, sorely press'd, hath to this covert crept. 
To lick the wounds from which its life blood flows. 
And, fraught with sympathy for its bestial woes. 
He approach'd the arbor, in whose dim recess. 
He beheld, Great Heaven ! his brother's marble brows 
Stretch'd on the sward, inert and motionless, 
While in his glazing orbs the light of life wax'd less. 



90 THE LORDS OF THE ALLODIUM. 

XXXVI. 

His garments torn and drenched with liis blood, 
Which from a dire, and fresh inflicted wound, 
With every fainting breath, discharg'd a blood 
That bath'd hi.s laboring breast and ting'd the ground, 
And trampled turf, and deep impressions round, 
Evinc'd a scene of violence and strife ; 
While from a further scrutiny, Konald found. 
That from an assassin's sharp and treacherous knife 
He met the cruel stroke, that claim'd his earthly life. 

XXXVII. 

There, in the twilight of that summer's eve, 
The haughty Hubert's spirit pass'd away ; 
But ere its favilous temple it did leave, 
The pulse revived and lent him power to pray. 
And while upon that generous breast he lay, 
His sorrow burst the prison house of pride. 
And dew'd his cheeks, unbathed since the day 
He wept above his Kosalind when she died, 
And now to Heaven's high throne, in penitence he cried. 



XXXVIII. 

The corpse was borne with reverence to the manse, 
And stretched bleeding on the bridal bed; 
While the gray Butler came with mournful glance. 
And all the sequacious throng with solemn tread, 
To view the form from which the spark had fled. 
Hut some there were who ill concealed their juv, 
For Ronald now should bear the rule instead, 
And his kind smile were sweeter to enjoy. 
Than Hubert's gold and aJl the pomp of Fontenoy. 



THE LORDS OF THE ALLODHTM. 91 

XXXIX. 

And next, those gentlemen of legal air 
Some hours debated on the curious case ; 
With terse, sententious questionings as to where 
The deed transpired, and features of the place. 
Noting the evidence with professional gi-ace ; 
Then gave this verdict— that some violent cause, 
And one they hop'd that justice soon should trace, 
Though doubtful charges have their dangerous flaws, 
Produced the dreadful crime, and thus defied the law 



XL. 

But soon the myrmid(^)ns of justice came, 
With valid Avrit to hinder and arrest 
The innocent Ronald, acting on the claim 
That fate from trifling grounds doth often wrest 
Proofs, strong and cogent, by the law confess'd, 
To whose account it should impute the blame ; 
And recent revelations did unfold 
An evident mark to direct the judicial aim, 
In fastening the dark blot of crime upon his name. 



XLI. 



Why longer should my narrative conceal 
My own identity with that child of shame? 
Xor spurn me, stranger I when my words reveal 
That I am he, who from his country came 
With infamy branded, and a murderer's name ; 
When these long locks, now powder'd white as snow. 
In auburn curls adorn'd a manly frame, 
In fiery youth when mystic passions grow, 
A.ud the full bosom thrills with rapture's waking glow. 



92 THE LORDS OF THE ALLODIUM. 

XLII. 

But sorrow's canker did anon destroy 
The budding blossoms of my youthful breast ; 
A dreadful curse upon a feeling boy, 
With every mental misery distress'd, 
Will mar forever^hope of quiet rest, 
In this dark realm of injury and pain. 
My strength succumb'd, but reason stood the test 
Ah ! would to heaven that I had been insane 
Or e're my soul had known this ign ominous stain ! 

XLIII. 

Within my dark and cheerless prison walls. 
Day after day, my bitter soul did yearn, 
Not for the pomp of my paternal halls. 
And votive train of parasitics, did I mourn ; 
But, as I mus'd, to memory would return 
^ The withering grief of my affectionate child, 

Thus from a father's love forever torn ; 
And Eleanora, gentle, loving, mild, 
Could she e'er deem my soul thus cursed and defiled. 

XLIV. 

Ah ! no, she knew me guiltless of the crime. 
And this reflection did my grief abate ; 
My soul grew lighter with the lapse of time, 
For inward peace enliveneth the estate ; 
Yea, maketli punislnnent a pleasant fate, 
Save lor the lack of what the mind must prize, 
Which finds not life within the prison gate — 
The charms of nature, influent to the eyes. 
In green o'erbranching shade, or calm and purply skies. 



THE LORDS OF THE ALLODIUM. 93 

XLV. 

Days flitted by, and at the hour decreed, 
Fetter'd and trembling in the felon's stall, 
I sate dejected, with my shame to feed 
The gaping multitude around the wall. 
While mute officials strode th' judicial hall, 
With looks of awe and reverential fright, 
Seemingly timorous that a foot might fall 
With too much rudeness in the awful sight 
Of that majestic lord of equity and right. 

XLVI. 

The cause was tried: the prisoner heard his doom. 
Heavens, what a doom ! it made my spirit shrink 
In deadly fear, while to the dungeon's gloom 
My guard convey 'd, and left me there to think 
On death's approaching fate, and sorrowing drink 
The bitter drops which from deep cisterns flow ; 
Waiting to see life's last remaining link 
Divide, and free the spirit from her woe, 
Fearful of that strange state she half desired to know, 

XLVII. 

Twice in my lone captivity did I see. 
And wept to see, m^ wan and wasted child ; 
While thrice my Eleanora came to me 
With tears of woe that well nigh drove me wild. 
And then she pray'd to Heaven, and sweetly smil'd 
Her holy influence round the felon's cell ; 
As God's bright minister, pure and undefil'd, 
Her looks unlearn'd my spirit to rebel, 
For with her soon in heaven, I felt 'twould surely dwell. 



94 THE LORDS OF THK ALLODIUM, 

XLVITI. 

Day follow' d day, full slowly circling round 
Each seem'd a month, each month a lingering year — 
Dark locks turn'd gray, straight shoulders waxed round. 
And on m^^ cheek, once rosy, did appear 
Furrows and lines, that as my end drew near, 
1 seem'd an octogenary dim and old ; 
Torn from each treasure that the heart holds dear, 
Is infamous death by false suspicion sold. 
While o'er my heart a tide of bitterest grief had roll'd. 

XLIX. 

She came once more to say my child was — dead, 
And bid adieu to him who soon must die ; 
My last faint beam of hope had darkly fled, 
The parting hour of pain was drawing nigh. 
She came, nor dare the jailor's heart deny 
The lonely supplicant her mournful prayer. 
The ponderous portals open'd, while his eye 
Beam'd with the glittering crystal of a tear, 
Dash'd from his humid lid, ere it did scarce appear. 



L. 



That fatal night deliverance came, I fled ; 
Knowing my fate should nerve or sinew fail, 
Dress 'd as a sorrowing wife, while in my stead 
The sorrowing wife lay lock'd in Chester Jail. 
O'er many a hill, through many a winding vale. 
Until at last behind the engine's roar, 
1 flew like lightning o'er the groaning rail, 
AVitli bold attempt to reach th' Atlantic shore, 
And If.'ive uiv naiive land behind for evermore. 



THE LORDS OF THE ALLODIUM. 95 

LI. 

That night the moon rose shimmering o'er the wave. 
Where slept the bark beside her anchor chain ; 
Like some fair bird of freedom, sent to save 
The flying wretch from undeserved pain. 
To brave the tempests of the billowy main, 
Fearless and free, with her o'er ponderous freight, 
Bound for Levantine shores and ports of Spain. 
And farther still to Yemen's golden gate, 
Where with their spicy stores the Mocha merchants wait. 



LIL 



What recks the fugitive from shame and death- 
To what land forinsical he turn his eye, 
Escaping from his own ? How sweet the breath 
That fills the sail, and bids the vessel fly 
Athwart the briny deep, where dangers lie 
Unseen and dark beneath the scowling wave ? 
And if on Afric's burning sands he die, 
Or at the Arctic, why should mercy save 
The forsaken wretch who seeks no rest but in the grave ? 



LIII. 

Beyond the Mersey, like terrestrial stars, 
A thousand lights rose twinkling in the view — 
Illustrious Liverpool, whose commerce shares 
The world's great riches with her favored few. 
There may be seen the Pagan and the Jew, 
The sloe-ey'd Spaniard, spirited and proud, 
The placid Coolie, with his ebon queue, 
Or jocund Frenchman, whistling through the cr 
And josHino- ihe grave T)irk, who curses him mIdikI 



THE LORDS OF THE ALLODIUM. 

LIV. 

Her streets are silent now, while hushed in rest 
The weary throng await the coming day ; 
When Mithra mounts his chariot in the East, 
And wakes the world with his effulgent ray. 
Then myriad traffickers their wares display, 
And the great drama doth again begin ; 
The tattered vagrant mingles with the gay, 
The costermonger kicks the esquire's shin. 
And blowsy slatterns walk twixt ladies tall and thin. 



LV. 



Ten days and nights we sojourn'd on the deep ; 
Through Biscay's Bay and round Cape Ortegal, 
Where Broad Atlantic's lazy water's sleep, 
Or gently lave the coasts of Portugal. 
Dropping our fluke 'neath Lisbon's royal wall, 
Where from Hispania's fount the Tagus flows, 
Twixt vineyards lovelier than the fields of Gaul ; 
Romantic land, where Lusiad's fame still glows. 
Where Camoens trained the muse, and learn'd Cervantes rose. 



LVI. 

What are ye now, the lonely outcast thought, 
To him who dreams upon your fallen pride? 
Can Spain's proud annals meliorate his lot ? 
Or bless the soil where glory's sons have died? 
Well have your shores religion's light denied ; 
And who may envy now your past renown, 
When federate Albion bore her shield beside, 
When from his car the Conqueror was cast down 
Pouring a sea of blood, round France's ancient throne. 



THE LORDS OF THE ALLODIUM. 97 

LVII. 

Her's was a fervor worthy of her cause ; 
For freedom ever should inspire the soul 
To deeds deserving an heroic name, 
When blind Ambition battles to control, 
And love of country often can console 
In its bereavement, the embitter'd heart ; 
And while Kemembrance "trembles to that pole'' 
How oft the tender tears unbidden start. 
And to the scenes of youth a dearer form impart. 

LVIII. 

Here are the monuments of victory : 
Trafalgar stands to memorize the brave, 
Who steer'd Britania's oak across the sea, 
And found deep sepulchre beneath its wave. 
Rest on, brave souls ! for Glory's voice will save 
Your illustrious memory to a future age ; 
And though around your bones the billows rave. 
Your names undying, shall survive their rage. 
Live in your country's heart, and grace her historic page. 

LIX. 

Our vessel flew along the foaming brine, 
Bojadot, Blanco, Bissa, Roxa, Verd, 
Were pass'd anon ; and o'er earth's central line 
She spread her wings like an aquatic bird, 
Shifting her courses as the breezes veer'd, 
Till o'er the blue expanse the lonely isle 
Of Bonaparte's captivity appear'd ; 
Where, meash'd and fetter' d in the conqueror's toil, 
He, though a conqueror too, died on an alien's soil. 



98 THE LORDS OF THE ALLODIUM. 

LX. 

Fraternal exile ! hapless was thy lot, 
When from the acme of imperial power, 
Driven from thy land to this secluded spot, 
Thou found'st the limit of life's little hour. 
What now remains of France thy cherish'd flow'r ? 
She whom thou led'st from out barbaric state. 
High o'er her throne the shafts of ruin low'r, 
And Prussia's standard, drooping at her gate. 
Insults the martial soul thy glory did elate. 



LXI. 



In this asylum of imprison'd rest. 
Thy wandering eye the billows might survey ; 
And catch the sail that, glistening on their breast, 
Clove the dark waters on its destin'd way. 
And would it thy lone moodiness allay 
To mark thine own proud eagle on the sea ? 
■:'^« And did thy thoughts leap backward to the day 
When, 'neath its folds, you made the allies flee. 
Subdued the pride of kings, and bent the tyrant's knee ' 



LXII. 

Thou saw'st thine hour of glory, but 'tis past ; 
It lay in battle, and a soldier's fame. 
The trumpet's brazen note, the bugle's blast, 
And blood of thousands shed to deck one name. 
Thy garland dy'd in Brandenburg's red shame, 
In Austria's blood, and many a widow's tear, 
No more shall leap to thee at Glory's claim. 
Nor bind the brow that now in death doth wear. 
With humid worms, the crown that king and vassal share. 



THE LORDS OF THE ALLODIUM. 99 

LXIII. 

Though now an outcast from my native land, 
I, too, have known delight and honor's thrill ; 
When ready menials courted my command, 
And bow'd in mute obedience to my will. 
This was my honor — by the bubbling rill, 
The rushing Dee, or in some bosky shade, 
My sweetest joy I found ; where Nature still 
Spread charms before me wheresoe'er I stray'd. 
In flowers upon the field, on blossoms in the glade. 

LXIV. 



These days are past, Oh ! could they but return 
The brand of infamy is on my brow 
And though the guiltless soul indignant spurn 
The odious horror, and essay to throw 
The stigma off that doth pollute it so, 
A heartless world will yet refuse to hear 
The plea of innocence, which thy haply brow 
Starts from unmanly increment of fear. 
And turn the tale aside, ere it assail the ear. 



LXV. 

But what to me, poor pilgrim on the brine. 
Borne from my country and my countrymen, 
If they make bright their fame by blasting mine? 
It hath been so, and will be so again. 
But Heaven's all-wakeful eye beholdeth when 
The shaft falls justly on the human heart, 
And He doth hold, and only He, I ween, 
The ambrosial cup that serveth to impart 
Peace, when around the soul black calumny doth start. 



L.ofC. 



100 THE LORDS OF THE ALLODIUM. 

LXVI. 

We voyag'd swiftly where the Southern sun 
Reflects his image in the glassy sphere; 
Around th' Agulhas Cape, and farther on, 
Where Mozambique's warm channel runneth clear, 
And Madagascar's heaths and aloes wear 
Perennial blossoms, and the silver tree 
Springs from the soil, luxuriant and fair. 
In tassel'd crown and furbished liverie, 
Where far Zambesi's stream leaps to the Indian Sea. 

LXVII. 

O'er towering Zamba on the larboard shore, 
With fancy's eye I saw the Leambye leap; 
Twixt fertile banks where blooms the tropic flow'r. 
And in their kraals the savage Caffres sleep. 
High o'er the outlines of Lupata's steep 
I heard the thunders of the wild cascade. 
And to its margin saw the behemoth creep, 
The black polema 'neath the orange shade, 
Leaping from branch to branch, with the fierce mandril play'd. 

LXVIII. 

But, sweeter still, I heard the solemn tone 
Of infant pray'r, sent up from heathen hearts ; 
Taught by thy zeal, immortal Livingstone! 
Whose honor' d name to Albion's page imparts 
A ray of light, while from each kotla starts 
The heaven-tun'd chorus, and the Bakwain child 
Plucks from its father's hand the poison' d darts. 
And Malalaka, and Kasabians wild, 
Forsake their idol Barimo, for Jesus undefiled. 



I 



THE LORDS OF THE ALLODIUM. 101 

LXIX. 

That tongue, now fetter'd in the bonds of death, 
For what is mortal not thy fame can die, 
Proclaim'd the Gospel with inspired breath, 
Even when thou heardst the koodoo's savage cry. 
O fallen monarch ! of the realms that lie 
Behind the barriers of this monstrous land. 
Known but to thine and Heaven's percipient eye. 
Doth now thy spirit in bright regions stand, 
To reap the blessed fruit it sowed on this wild strand? 

LXX. 

The mystic Nile, among whose bending flags, ' 
The Hebrew mother laid her prophet son, 
Trac'd by thine eye to its first fountain, drags 
Its turbid stream thro' fields thy step hath won, 
By pure philanthropy of heart alone ; 
Or if not won, at least prepar'd the road 
Through which the Gospel Chariot soon shall run, 
And fling the Banner of the Cross abroad, 
Above the blooming wilderness, baptiz'd in grace to God. 

LXXl. 

As he who heralded the great event 
Of Shilo's advent to Judea's strand. 
Thou didst delight, on kindred mission sent, 
To make thy dwelling on the desert sand. 
The savage Boer, and Bechuana's hand 
Was given to thee in fellowship and love, 
While o'er thy head, in the Pintanga fann'd, 
The Mokwareza and the turtle dove, 
Hail'd thee with notes of joy in fair Angola's grove, 



102 THE LORDS OP^ THE ALLODIUM. 

LXXII. 

From broad Nyanza, where in mystery lost 
Through ages past, the stream leap into birth, 
And down the cataract of Karuma tost. 
Through reedy fens, and moorland winding forth, 
Where the fierce River Horse plows the spongy earth, 
Where graceful Gnu, and giant Hartebeeste graze, 
Or the wild Zebra bounds in gladsome mirth 
O'er sunny uplands, where the Spring-bok strays, 
And treads with spoiling feet the yet uncultur'd maize. 

LXXIII. 

And by the land where Britain's tiag was borne 
On humane mission, by the bold Napier, 
To save from death his countrymen forlorn, 
Prison'd and fetter'd in the Galla's care. 
Wholesome defeat, which gave one soul to share 
The blood bought liberty of Christian grace I 
The blessed prize from England's shores he bare 
With joyous spirit to his native place. 
And told the wondrous tale to Abvsinnia's race. 



LXXIV. 

Through the guuvas of the Nubian vales, 
The palms and cypress, baobabs and thyme, 
The figs and tamarinds, whose bloom prevails 
In sweet perenity throughout that clime. 
There too the relics of departed time 
Repose beneath the fanes of Ipsamboul, 
Whose broken towers once stood in massy prime, 
With four collossi on her ancient mole, 
'l^re Asia's races own 'd the Great Riaraases' rule. 



THE LORDS OF THE ALLODIUM. 103 

LXXV. 

But why attempt to track thy mazy course ? 
Far-flowing stream! most venerable Nile! 
Enough that Livingstone hath found tliy source, 
Unknown and secret to the world erstwhile. 
Though in the task he perish' d with a smile 
Deeming it great and glorious thus to die, 
And rear to heaven his monumental pile ; 
A golden pillar, destin'd to defy 
The shock of time, that all but glory doth destroy. 

LXXVI. 

I saw Cape Prassum, through the purple haze, - 
Projecting far athwart the Southern Sea; 
And fertile Zanguebar, whose reedy bays 
Stretch'd like a fenland all along the lea. 
Where the black Shelluh, and the CafFre's knee 
Bends to the Imaun on the Muscat throne. 
And the wild Arab is the only free ; 
For, with his steed unfetter'd and alone. 
He roams the desert wild, and claims it as his own. 

LXXVII. 

The spires of Quiloa, shining from afar. 
Rose like a mirage in the morning ray ; 
Where busy Commerce wheels her golden car 
Burden' d with precious freight from day to day. 
Our little bark bore gallantly away 
With favoring breeze, and fnrl'd in Zanzibar 
Her flapping canvas, in the twilight gray ; 
While many a tough and weather-beaten tar 
Watch'd from his hammock bed the glittering austral star. 



104 THE LORDS OF THE ALLODIUM. 

LXXVIII. 

Long hours I lean'd across the vessel's side, 
Nor dream'd of rest, the heavens were so serene ; 
I thought of Britain's foggy isle denied 
The liquid charms that in that land are seen, 
Where every leaf wears never fading green, 
And gentle breezes, laden with perfume. 
Brood on the waves where Luna's silver sheen 
Beveals each sprite that habiteth the gloom, 
In phantom shape far down in Ocean's lab'ring womb. 

LXXIX. 

And oh ! the morn, how exquisitely fair ! 
And how unlike our cold septentrion strand ; 
Where dank and humid vapor chills the air, 
And hangs halituous over all the land. 
While harsh December binds with icy band 
The floral landscape, and the minstrel's bow'r. 
Smiting the emerald bough with blighting hand. 
He shakes his powder'd locks, whose feathery show'r 
Falls through the leafless wood, and hides each glinting flow'r. 

LXXX. 

Up from the bosom of the sparkling deep, 
Phoebus ascended in his golden car ; 
From Orient isles, where wild flamingoes sleep 
In Java's reeds, or Straits of Macassar, 
Bright and magnificent, beaming from afar 
A shining globe of soft celestial fire. 
From whose coruscant realm each twinkling star 
Withdrew outlustred, as the disc rose higher 
Or in perihelion veil'd, swept round the flaming pyre. 



THE LORDS OF THE ALLODIUM. 105 

LXXXI. 

The waking mariner's echoes piping loud, 
With nervous sweetness swept the waters wide ; 
While every swelling sail and creaking shroud, 
And the light form that floated on the tide, 
The rugged seaman's mistress, mother, bride, 
Alike seem'd pregnant with the soul of glee, 
As o'er the billows with a rush of pride, 
Like a white albatross on pinions free, 
She sped before the breeze that rippled o'er the sea. 

LXXXII. 

We pass'd anon the Babel-mandeb strait, 
Whose waters flow twixt two feracious lands; 
Where British Aden opens wide her gate. 
And pours her barter'd wealth to other hands ; 
Of Hedjaz gold, from her auriferous sands, 
Where Mecca worships at the Prophet's shrine, 
And Sana's Musselmans, in pilgrim bands, 
Forth to the Kaaba reverently incline 
Behind the kirtled Mufti, that leads the moving line. 



LXXXIII. 

A silent midnight 'neath a summer sky, 
A sluggish ocean, and a molten morn ; 
Our little bark full languidly did lie 
Abreast the billows, like a sleeping loon. 
The chimney bells had toll'd th' nocturnal noon, 
The skipper slumber'd in hi>: hammock aft, 
And, while the watchman trill'd a rigadoon, 
The zephyrs murmur'd o'er the waters soft, 
When quivering sheets of flame burst round the sleeping ci-aft. 

8 



106 THE LORDS OF THE ALLODIUM. 

LXXXIV. 

Beneath, consuming every costly spice, 
The myrrh and balsam of the Meccan priest, 
The gums of Araby, of goodly price, 
And fragrance sweet, which, as the heat increas'd, 
Fum'd like the incense o'er the sacrific beast, 
And flung a vap'ry curtain round the ship. 
The empyrosis danc'd about its feast, 
Licking its treasur'd prize with red devouring lip. 

LXXXV. 

Fear and amazement sat on every face, 
As o'er tlie stillness broke the solemn boom 
Of the hoarse gun, their signal of distress. 
Of direful peril, and impending doom. 
The blazes lit the circumambient gloom. 
And flickering rose above the frighten'd few; 
The cordage snap'd and, falling mid the fume. 
Which for a moment veil'd the dreadful view, 
Brighten'd the eager flames, which like long serpents flew. 



LXXXVI. 

The life boat, lowering o'er the smoking side, 
AVas soon o'er freighted with the flying crew; 
Thrice was it swamp'd beneath the lurid tide. 
And thrice again to it for aid they flew. 
And, as the whisper ominously grew. 
That scarce one moment should the vessel float, 
Each f;ice nssum'd a dead nnd ghastly hue, 
While in despair the thronging medley sought 
With words of bitter cheer to escape the awful loU 



THE LORDS OF THE ALLODIUM. 107 

LXXXVII. 

Four fragile vessels, burden'd past their weight, 
Were launched uncertain on the moving brine ; 
The pinnace held the skipper and the mate, 
Myself and other six, all told in nine. 
And how shall I the direful fate define 
Of all the residue ? A score of men, 
With souls more timorous of the tomb than mine, 
Not one beheld his native shore again, 
They sleep in silent band beneath the Southern main. 

LXXXVIII. 

The blackening bark, as if she strove once m&re 
To look abroad upon the boundless fi^ld, 
Which in lier pride she oft had travers'd o'er, 
Ilprear'd her head, which like a drunkard's reel'd, 
Then, with one plunge, her sepulchre was seal'd. 
Down, down she sank beneath the shrouded deep, 
And the calm moon a vacant sea reveal'd ; 
For twice ten souls had perish'd in that leap 
With her that rode the main, 'twas theirs with her to sleep. 

LXXXIX. 

Yes, of that fated band we saw but one, 
Bravely who rose, beneath the stars' pale light, 
As if the fury of ilespair had won 
A present triumph, in the parting tight, 
While in a tons of terror and affright, 
113 haii'd his liying comrades o'er the wave, 
Who listenln;^ pa'is'd not in their perilous flight, 
For w^U they kn3w did they essay to save 
Tlio desperate wretch, hia gra.-;^) would drag them to the grave. 



108 THE LORDS OF THE ALLODIUM. 

xc. 

Where now that pageant beautiful and grand 
That rode rejoicing on the moonlit main? 
The lonely pinnace and the smoking brand, 
Were the sad monuments that did remain. 
And still the skies were smiling as serene, 
The billows gentle, ami the silver wreath 
That binds the brow of Night's illustrious queen, 
Shone brightly dancing on the waves beneath. 
As ere the chrystal stars look'd on that scene of death. 



XCI. 

All night we lay upon the tranquil sea; 
And, till the next, we labor'd at the oar, 
Hoping 'gainst hope that we ere long should see 
Some trading carrack from the Deccan shore. 
But hours roU'd on, and heart and eye grew sore 
With fruitless watching for expected aid, 
And every brow a gloomy aspect wore 
Which vain expectancy more gloomy made. 
As o'er the Western ware, the daylight 'gan to fade. 



XCIL 

Bravely we toil'd, but toil'd alas ! in vain, 
No chart nor compass had our boat to guide 
Her tedious course athwart the sluggish main, 
And bubble like she drifted on the tide. 
So days roU'd on, till gaunt and hollow-ey'd 
We grew, with hunger's maddening desire, 
While finny monsters of the deep did glide 
Along our fated track, still wheeling nigher 
To watch the expected prize, with perseverance dire. 



THE LORDS OF THE ALLODIUM. 109 

XCIII. 

And must this prove, I thought, my final fate ? 
To sink unsepulchred in death's dark sleep, 
And lay my head in unmolested state, 
Within some rock -bound cavern of the deep. 
Where humid saurians round my bones shall creep, 
Feeding their poisonous litter on my clay ; 
While moon-tail'd Triton at the pyre may leap. 
And Tethy's thirty hundred Nereides play 
With Phorcr.s' one-eye'd daughters, upon my fun'ral day. 

XCIV. 

And thou, sweet Elenora, must the blow 
Come back upon thee in thy spirit's strife? 
How doubly sorrowful it is to know 
That thou, while suffering to preserve my life, 
Must feel this unseen increment of grief. 
And was't for this I 'scapt the hangman's noose? 
Alas ! the triumph had indeed been brief, 
And Fate, I murmur'd, doth her pow'r abuse, 
In mocking a poor wretch, her passion to amuse. 



xcv. 

Six lingering days, and still relief denied, 
Disorder' d frenzy mounted Reason's throne ; 
The seventh dawn'd, and one poor sufferer died 
With feeble struggle, and heart-rending moan. 
And still I wonder'd that he was not thrown 
With his stark comrades 'neath the waves to lie, 
Ah, Heavens ! that mystery was unseal'd anon — 
I saw a gleaming knife— a frenzied eye — 
The putrid vein was pierc'd ; the blood-suck 'd fount was dry. 



1 

ItO THE LORDS OF THE ALLODIUM. 

XCVI. 

Fiird with dark horror, to the circling view 
Once more I cast a vague intensive eye, 
Where the far heavens just kiss the waters bhie, 
And th-^re, like Noah's Dove, I did espy 
Heaven's blest deliverer gliding o'er the sea ; 
With full swell'd sails her prow came dashing by, 
The skipper's glass discern'd us o'er the lea, 
And ere an hour elaps'd the famished band were free. 



XCVII. 

A ship of commerce from the Persian shore, 
And mart of Indian merchanry, Busheer ; 
The rich brocades of Ispahan she bore, 
With coarser camlets from the looms of Lar, 
Bound to America, the fam'd and far ; 
To Hudson's fair wall'd London of the West, 
Where freedom's banner floats upon the air, 
And every stranger is a welcome guest. 
Where enterprise in art, with man's best praise is blest. 



XCVIII. 

Around the Sandy Hook our barky sail'd, 
From her long sojourn on the stormy deep, 
While from the gaff the star-fleck'd streamer trail'd ; 
By Staten Island, where embrasur'd sleep 
The iron fed thunderers of war, that keep 
Their watchful vigil o'er a nation's right ; 
Happy and diligent race! well do ye reap 
The glorious recompense of freedom's fight. 
In safety, praise, and peace, 'neath fair religion's light. 



THE LORDS OF THE ALLODIUM. HI 

XCIX. 

Thou youngest, oldest city 'twixt the zones ! 
Proud palace isle! with marble pillars laid, 
How beautiful appear'd thy tapering cones 
And myriad cupolas, in light display'd ! 
Each bosom bounded, as our bark obey'd 
The gentle breeze, and drifted thro' the strait, 
On to the city ; with her gay parade 
Of every nation's flags, or small or great, 
That float before the walls, and for her of'ring wait. 



c. 



Full oft in boyhood, had my fancy trac'd 
In idle hours, wild pictures of this land — 
A mighty wilderness, a howling waste, 
Beneath whose umbrage, roam'd the savage band 
To bloody deeds with tomahawk and brand. 
And now I saw a race polite, refined, 
A fertile shore, a city proud and grand ; 
People of every name and nation join'd. 
Beneath one common flag, ruled by one common mind. 



CI. 



I long'd to fly the whispering haunts of men, 
To the lone valleys of the boundless West; 
To build a lodge beside the beaver's den, 
And lay me down in solitude and rest ; 
Where voice of man might never more molest 
The long sought rapture of a life's repose 
On Nature's peaceful and maternal breast ; 
Where wild-ey'd Lonliness doth ne'er unclose 
The portals of her house, to friends or venom'd foes. 



112 THE LORDS OF TH£ ALLODIUM. 

CIT. 
The fierce and savage denizen of the wood, 
Untrain'd as yet in Mercy's sovereign cause, 
Yea, the wild cougar panting o'er her brood, 
Pays more respect to her Creator's laws 
Than cultur'd man; who, boasting that he draws 
His gentler light from the inspired page, 
Injures his fellow and receives applause, 
Where wrong commends the motive of his rage, 
And makes the paltriest fiend the paragon of the age. 



cm. 

I invok'd eternal Solitude, to feel 
That soft sublimity which doth inspire 
The poet's spirit, when it doth unseal 
The secret chords of Nature's quivering lyre, 
That fill the ravish'd fancy with soft fire ; 
The bubbling rill that ripples down the glade, 
The daisy's bloom, the forest's minstrel choir. 
The green savanna, and sequester'd shade. 
In whose umbrageous depths the aureate sunbeams fade. 



CIV. 

I made my dwelling in this savage land. 
On the green margin of a swelling stream ; 
Where yet unscathed the forest giants stand. 
And where the sun declining, veils his beam 
Behind the occidental clouds, that seem 
Like golden pillars stretching to the sky, 
Trim'd with long Hery selvedges that gleam 
With mellow light dilucid on the eye; 
Far over towering sierras, where parting shadows lie. 



THE LORDS OF THE ALLODIUM. 113 

cv. 

And here an infant with my long lost bride 
Appear'd to share my solitary rest ; 
And here I found what prouder shores denied, 
Freedom and happiness, the first and best 
Of joys that fall at Heaven's supreme behest ; 
Which all the wealth ot Ophir could not buy, 
An humble soul in a contented breast; 
For the soul's peace, like wealth, can never fly 
And leave th' forsaken heart in poverty to sigh. 



CVL 

But here alas ! I found my bitterest grief, 
Preponderating all my former peace ; 
For earthly bliss must evermore be brief 
When earthly agencies supply the lease. 
How vain the man, who hopes his cares shall cease ? 
And well if life had satisfied the law 
On Deva's scaffold, if it might appease 
The powers of vengeance, and in mercy draw 
A veil o'er what this soul in one dark moment saw. 



CVIL 

How shall I 'scape the memory of that night. 
Which o'er the space of years its horror throws ? 
How shall my vision shun the bloody sight 
Which still more palpable and ghastly grows? 
Still like a stream the crimson life blood flows ; 
Still fierce and loud resounds that savage cry; 
And o'er each midnight's gloom the flame still glows 
In which I saw my Eleanora lie. 
While round her danced the fiends that laugh' d to see her die. 



114 THE LORDS OF THE ALLODIUM. 

CVIII. 

The buds of April were array'd in bloom, 
And every flowret hung its petals forth; 
While the magnolia, burden'd with perfume. 
Bent her fair head to kiss the laughing earth. 
Each bough seem'd vocal with the gladsome mirth 
Of the blythe mocking bird, that pip'd her tune 
In song to celebrate the violet's birth. 
And the proud cockatoo, with garish plume, 
Sent her loquacious note from out the forest's gloom. 

CIX. 

The twilight fell; and softly from on high 
Three starr'd Orion shed his bastard light, 
Speaking the morn a clear, propitious sky, 
A cloudless dawning, and a placid night. 
The silent wood, in silver garments dight, 
Hid in her depths the nightingale, whose song 
To the lone owlet in the craggy height, 
Each interspace her note responsive flung. 
Till every shadowy glade with the deep cadence rung. 



ex. 



How oft the ocean calms before a storm ! 
The brightest sky precedes the blackest cloud ; 
The towering Alp assumes his loveliest form 
Before he dons the tempest's lurid shroud. 
And ere that gentle morn my lone abode 
Was fir'd and wasted by the burning brand ; 
The demon war cry sounded long and loud. 
Waking the slumbering echoes of the land, 
While deadly weapons gleam'd in many a tawny hand. 



THE LORDS OF THE ALLODIUM. 115 

CXI. 

My child was torn from off her mother's breast, 
And both were bound with many a sinewy shred ; 
While, at the plumed Sakema's behest, 
My helpless form was pinion 'd to the bed; 
Beneath where hung the rafters, flaming red, 
Each passing instant threatening to descenc 
And wrap me in their ruins ; hope had fled 
But Heaven design'd I should escape that end, 
And live but to endure worse pains that did impend. 

CXII. 

The creeping flames consum'd the shreds of bark 
Which bound my limbs, and 'neath the cabin floor, 
Within a clay-wall'd cavern, damp and dark. 
Where I was wont my scanty crop to store, 
I bafiled death, tho' burnt and wounded sore ; 
But 'ere the hell throng'd theatre I left, 
I saw, with death-shaft pierc'd, my Eleanor 
Stretch'd on the sward, her palid temples cleft, 
A cold and bleeding corpse, of sense and soul bereft. 

CXIII. 

The morning sun rose smiling on the scene, 
As if to mock the haggard mourner's woe ; 
The smoking cinders scatter'd on the green, 
The sanguine streaks that told where blood did flow, 
The trampled blades, and ashes that did strow 
The area round, evinc'd a deed of blood 
To make the gazer's bosom beat more slow ; 
Life had no charm to move me as I stood 
And o'er the ruin mourn'd, in dark and bitter mood. 



116 THE LORDS OF THE ALLODIUM. 

CXIV. 

'Neath the dark shadow of a linden tree, 
The lonely dust of her I cherish'd lies ; 
And there, oft times, with fancy's eye I see, 
When twilight shadows o'er the landscape rise. 
And the pale moon weeps pity from the skies. 
Her gentle form, my first and sweetest friend ; 
And with an angel's radience in her eyes. 
Sweet words of comfort to my soul doth lend ; 
Till the soft spirit tones with Nature's cadence blend. 

This, stranger, is my tale, a tale of truth, 
Of darkest misery doubt and mirth. 
And odd mishaps begun in birth, 

While brooding Grief 

Doth wander back, 

With strange relief 

Along the track 
Of sorrowful manhood and adventurous youth. 

And if the record of my wrongs impart 

One generous glow 

Or sudden flow 
Of warm emotion to thy listening heart, 
I ask not pity, since the will of Heaven 
Decrees the portion to each mortal given ; 

And though the breast 

Of peace despoil'd. 

Deplore the rest 

For which it toil'd. 
Faith should adore though the heart be riven. 

No, some may glide along the stream of life, 

With love's soft gale 

In every sail. 
Where rocks and rugged shoals are rife ; 

With music's ring 

From voice and string 



i 

i 
4 



THE LORDS OF THE ALLODIUM. 117 

'Mid thousand wrecks of storm and strife; 

While haply one of better mind 

Lies tossing on the tide behind, 

Or sailing slow and wearily 

With vessel shatter'd and forlorn, 

At whom reproachful Obloquy 

Points the slow finger of her scorn, 

To be at last 

In ruin cast 
To perish on some dreary shoal. 

Where billows roll, 

And deep winds toll 
A solemn dirge for the dying soul. 

A different state — 

A different fate — 
Attends each pilgrim to the skies ; 

And one may die 

With bittered sigh, 

Whose living eye 
Forever glow'd with the spirit's joy. 
While some who worship at sorrow's shrine, 
In death's dark hour their cares r&sign. 

When the full supply 

Of each fount runs dry, 
One spirit smiles and another sighs ; 
But all united shall they rise, 
When the varying shock of time destroys 
This earthly life, and its essence flies 
To that laud where the home of its glory lie«;. 



118 THE LORDS OF THE ALLODIUM. 

CANTO THIRD. 

OMEME. 



Young summer blossom'd on the leafy trees, 
Where Nature's spirit lay enwrap'd in rest; 
"While o'er the upland swell'd the nocturnal breeze, 
Or gently kiss'd the river's calmy breast. 

Here had the lone Oraeme learn'd to stray, 
The forest lily, beautiful and pale, 
And here full often at the dawn of day. 
Her footsteps wander'd in the dewy vale. 

Here would she listen to the wooing song 
Of the wild blackbird in the linden shade, 
Or charm a carol from the laverock's tongue. 
Which playful mimicry anon repaid. 

She loved the flowers and green leaves, for the mind 
Which smooths its harsher nature in low prayer, 
In Heaven's great cornucopia can find 
A charm which fashion nor man's art can wear. 

With the dim wand of faithful memory trac'd, 
She oft beheld a being fond and fair; 
Which, wdiensoever her ravish'd soul embraced, 
Vanish'd unseen, and left no substance there. 

It wa:^ a mother's well remembered tone, 
That mid the silence oft addrcss'd her ear ; 
And musing by some silvery stre^im alone, 
Her sad sweet memory moved tho silent tear. 

Yes, that bright picture, like an angel's dream, 
Still held her spirit 'ne:»th it> fond control; 
Or like a meteor, ca^^t a transient beam 
Of biiss, to light the diu'kne^^s of her iioul. 



THE LORDS OF THE ALLODIUM. 119 

But how, and when, she ne'er could understand, 
Had she been reft of that maternal care? 
Where had she fallen amid that savage band ? 
And if she own'd a christian kindred, where ? 

Then she bethought her of that luckless hour 
The dark ey'd captive to his lodge was brought ; 
How she had help'd him to escape their poAv'r, 
And how he pitied her unfriended lot. 

" To-night he told me that he would return," 
The maiden said, as in the silent wood 
Far from the wigwam of the sachem stern, 
Beneath Heaven's moonlit canopy she stood. 

The starry zone out=?tretch'd across the sky, 
With milky splendor lamp'd the space above ; 
The limpid river swept in silence by, 
And Nature worship'd at the shrine of love. 

And there she waited, till the wanderer came, 
And bore her thence to be his lawful bride ; 
The path was long, but love's procacious flame 
Doth burn thro' mountains, prison gates and pride. 

Far o'er the prairie where the bison feeds, 
The plighted maid and her preserver flee ; 
'Neath frowning summits and thro* flowery meads, 
And light, and shadow, onward still they sped. 



Nigh where the Keha Paha swells the force 
Of deep ^lissouri, laver of the land. 
And where the swift Dakota tracks its course, 
The spires of Yankton in the sunlight stand. 

And there, soft ringing on the breathless air, 
The chapel bells were echoing around ; 
Now swelling loud, now sinking on the ear^ 
In modulated consonance of sound. 



120 THE LORDS OF THE ALLODIUM. 

Before the altar stood a happy throng, 
A blushing maiden and a manly youth ; 
And as the chorus tun'd the nuptial song, 
She gave her hand in innocence and truth. 

And while the priest inscrib'd the solemn votv, 
A father's eye beam'd forth the light of pride ; 
Even as he saw his daughter's virgin brow 
Wreath'd with the vestal garland of a bride. 

And in a lovely cottage in the West, 
Around whose walls the honeysuckles cling, 
Three happy souls in one estate are blest 
With every joy that perfect love can bring. 

There dwells Omeme, daughter of the wood, 
Far from the lodges of the warriors wild ; 
There Victors' eye hath learn'd a milder mood, 
And Ronald sojourns with his long lost child. 



i 



DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 121 



Preams of the Siesta, 



The verses in the following collection were, with a few exceptions, written 
prior to the age of seventfien ; and the entire volume during the author's minority ; 
which may palliate in some measure that triteness of conceit which pervades most 
of the passages — a fault no doubt engendered by the too superficial reading of the 
works of others. The mind of man is like an infant which, doubtful of its own 
powers, clings to surrounding objects for support in its first efforts at ambulation. 
It requires to be developed by the gradual attrition of every imitative tendency, 
invigorated by a salutary regimen of thought, and disciplined by the rigorous govern- 
ment of an all-conquering will, before it can be made productive of any truly 
original conception. 



EASTER HYMN. 



Gloria in excehis Deo ! 

Hark ! from their lofty stations, 

The white-rob'd seraphs sing- 
Awake, ye wondering nations, 
Let rapturous peans ring. 

Holy, Holy, Holy, 

Salvation is restor'd ; 
The Nazarene so lowly 

Is crown'd Eternal Lord. 

On every isle of ocean 
Let man incline the knee ; 

From every heart devotion 
Forever swell to Thee! 

Great Prince of our salvation. 
Thou bright incarnate Word I 

Let every soul's oblation 
Be— Glory to the Lord. 



122 DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 

The Crucified liath risen 

O'er Death, triumphant King, 

The soul hath burst its prison, 
The grave hath lost its sting. 

Then let our souls forever, 
Sing Glory to the Lord; 
r. The God, the Gift, and Giver, 

By heaven and earth ador'd. 



MOMENTO MORIENTUR. 

Job xxxiv. 20. 
One moment sees the soul depart, 
And who shall track her secret flight ? 
Or from the Eternal Fount, re-light 
The flameless altar of the heart ? 

At morn or eve, in rest or toil, 
From bridal bed, or couch of care, 
The reaper Death doth swiftly bear 
The sheaves of his immortal spoil. 

Few years have o'er this spirit flown, 
Yet life's transition seemeth nigh ; 
And Mercy gives my dreaming eye 
Presention of that dark unknown. 

Nor is it unmeet the spark which burn'd 
As 'twere by some mistaken fate, 
Should soon forsake its leas'd estate, 
A sunbeam to its source return' d. 

Yet seems it strange man should be born, 
One moment to lament and sigh 
Along life's way, and then to die 
Oft unremember'd save in scorn. 



DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 123 

Strange ? All the eye surveys is strange ; 
God's universe of light and air 
With all its shapes, deformed or fair, 
Adore the soul of deathless change. 

Life's bitterness I've learn'd, and mine, 
All save that mystic nature made 
Inscrutable, as Him who laid 
Its covering o'er the soul divine. 

But let oblivion quench this breath, 
Which pain hath rob'd of half its force ; 
The tomb awakes but sin's remorse, 
Since every pain is lost in death. 



RETROSPECTION. 



Spirit of instruction ! come, 

Make us learn that we must die. — Cowper. 

Oh ! Where are the joys that my bosom once knew, 

When the sun of my boyhood beam'd ? 
They are faded and gone like the droplets of dew. 
Those delicate flowers that in infancy grew, 
And o'er the soft landscape their fragrancy threw, 
Ere the star of my sorrow gleam'd. 

The pathway is dark where I wander alone. 

And, the heavens o'ercast with a cloud ; 
All the cherish'd companions of youth are gone, 
No smile to encourage, no gladdening tone. 
The living are lost, but I know where one 
Lies cold in his icy shroud. 

And often I picture his sparkling eye 

When the shades of the night depend : 
And often I think, though I scarce know why, 



124 DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 

Tliat I too -vvould like from this Avorld to fly, 
And rest Avliere no bitter, nor sorrowful sigh 
The cords of my losom might rend. 

But Father assist me my fortune to bear ! 

Kor yield to the tempter's control ; 
For I know that each heart hath its mourning to wear, 
And though wounds may be deep yet they come from thy (^arc, 
And in every affliction, the unction of pray'r 

Shall soften the grief of my soul. 



BEYOND THE BLUE ARCH. 



Nor shall the conscious soul 
Mistake its partner ; but amidst the crowd, 
Singling its other half, into its arms 
Shall rush with all the impatience of a man 
That's new corlie home, and having long been absent, 
With haste runs over everj' different room 
In pain to see the whole. — Blair — The Grave. 

Beyond the blue arch where the Shiloh of God 

Ascended of old with the cherubim host, 
While angel hosannas were wafted abroad 

O'er the worshiping throng on that beautiful coast ; 

In that flowery land, where affliction nor night 

Shall darken the streams in the sunbeam that flow ; 

Where the amaranth blooms in unfading delight, 

Shall we meet with the friends that w^e cherish'd below? 

Yes, there we shall meet, when the Prince of our peace 
Shall herald the soul to its mansion of rest ; 

When the streams of affliction and sorrow shall cease, 
And the fountain of joy be unseal d in each breast. 

Great Father of ^lercy ! then strengthen my soul ; 

And help me the Cross of Thy anguish to bear ; 
That when billows of bitter adversity roll, 

I may hide mjr lone heart in the temple of pray'r. 



DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 125 

WISDOM. 



Length of days is in her right hand ; 

And in her left hand riches and honor. — Prov. in., 16. 

Sister of peace, inspire this longing soul 

With that sweet sapience of hallow'd thought, 

Which, in the days of old, like heavenly tire, 

Or the White Dove o'er Bethabara's stream. 

Came down and kindled in the royal seer. 

Knowledge, we know, is found in well-train'd heads, 

Replete Avith facts ta'en from the face of books, 

And conjured up to fill a present want ; 

For natural man must understand tlie laws 

By which all natural issues are conlrol'd, 

At least in part, for he who knows not why 

A star is bright, or why the moon is full, 

Or concave, or oblique, or new, or old, 

Or why their bright siderial orbits tend 

With such unswerving nicety to a point, 

Whence with a grand, and ever faithful sweep 

They round the pivot, and renew their flight 

Through ages never ceasing. He Avho knows 

Not this, must bow to every flippant soph 

That cleps him fool. And yet how many a head, 

On which the liripoop would strangely rest, 

How many a heart ne'er privileged to beat 

Within a gown, wears wisdom's sweetest parts, 

Truth, Love, and Charity, and fairer still. 

Humility, Avhich as tlie sapphire's carcanet, 

But shows the lustre of the gem it holds 

AVith lovelier shades while seeming to conceal. 

Shall Rudeness then, the sage professor asks, 

Thrust nice refin'd Gentility aside? 

Or swine debar the lion from a feast 

For lips of royally alone purvey'd ? 

And from the tomb an echoing sound replies — 

The fool hath fuinJ what you, poor philomath. 

Have squander'd life in seeking, turning round 



126 DREAMS OF THE SlESTA. 

Your scales of optics, alchemy obscure, 
Geometry, pneumatics, light and air ; 
Measuring the paralax of moon or star, 
And laboring 'gainst the visible effect 
With reasons tending backward from the cause. 
While his pure heart, unpension'd to such lore, 
Bent down in pray'r, and ask'd it of his God. 



DONACONNA. 



The emissary of Francis I. to the New World, somewhat tarnished his fair 
reputation, by the forcible abduction of certain friendly savages from the village 
of Stadaconna (now the city of Quebec); among whom was Donaconna, sagamore 
of the Algonquin tribe, with whom he had been hospitating ; and whom he con- 
veyed to St. Malo, on the coast of Brittany, where he died in the fourth or fifth 
moon of his captivity, after receiving the benefit of Christian baptism, with great 
pomp in the the Cathedral of Rouen. 

No more thro' the valleys and wilds of the West, 
The warrior chief with his people may roam ; 

In the land of the stranger he slumbers at rest, 
Far, far from the streams that encircle his home. 

The bear and the beaver in streamlet or wood, 
Unhunted at evening may rest in their den ; 

And the eagle return to her clamorous brood 

In the rocks of the mountain or wilds of the glen. 

And lilies may bloom in the valleys of France, 
Her homes may be happy her heavens serene ; 

O'er her beautiful vineyards the sunbeams may glance. 
And butterflies flit through her gardens of green. 

But dearer by far to the warrior's heart 

Were the snow crested summits that frown' d on his birth. 
Where the wolf and the deer at the storm phantom start 

To their homes in the dark rising hills of the North. 



DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 127 

And though the night warbler may tune her sad dirge 
Where the alien's ashes unhonor'd are laid ; 

His spirit, unfetter'd, shall traverse the surge, 
And dwell with his race in the boreal shade. 

Yes, where the dark waves of the Saguenay glide, 
Or the cataract mimics the voice of the sea, 

The Sakema's Jeebi* by moonlight will ride 

In his airy chemaun, with the great Unktahee.f 

Pale treacherous race, when you bore him away ; 

And flaunted your oriflamb's fold on his shore ; 
Did you reck that his children might witness the day 

When your gem should be lost and your glory be o'er ? 

Where now is the banner ye rear'd on Kepec ? ' 

Talavera, Trafalgar, and Waterloo tell ; 
'Twas riven and drench'd on the Orient's deck. 

And Freedom revived on the spot where it fell. 



O, LOVELY LAND. 



O, lovely land ! where the summer's sun 
In parting beams when the day is done, 
Flings shimmering light o'er the sacred fanes 
That rise in their ruins from Salem's plains. 

On Jordan's slope, 'neath his aureate blaze, 
The wild gazelle in her freedom strays ; 
And slakes her thirst from the gushing rill. 
That ripples down from the Holy Hill. 

Thou gentle child of the starry sky ! 

What sorrowful thoughts in thy bosom lie? 

As thou tread'st o'er the ruin of that bright shore, 

Where Israel's glory shall dawn no more. 
♦Chieftain's spirit, 
+ God of the waters. 



128 DREAMS OF THE SIESTA* 

The race of the Promise, bestow'd by God, 
Now bend to tlie scourge of affliction's rod ; 
And the light and pride of Jehovah*s shrine. 
Are sunk where the folds of the Crescent shine. 

Kg more at the eve to the green lip'd spring, 
The Jewish maidens their beakers bring; 
To behold in the waters that sleep beside, 
The mirror'd hope of their people's pride. 

Nor longer the thunders on Sinai's brow 

Burst forth from the dwelling of God below ; 

Nor the voice of the Spirit in love replies, 

Through the curtain that shrouds it from mortal eyes. 

The crumbling temple of Zion stands, 
The pride and the wonder of other lands ; 
But vainly, alas, doth the scatter'd race 
Look back Avith pride to that holy place. 

The Cross has wan'd, and the Crescent flies 
Like the herald of war o'er the startled skies ; 
And the Muezzin's voice on the morning air 
Still summons his train to unhallowed pray'r. 

The scepter is broken ; the budding wand 
That marshal'd the tribes from their captive land, 
Lies crumbling in dust with the prophet king, 
Where the thunders of heaven o'er Nebo ring. 

Oh I Israel is fallen ; yes, fallen low ; 
And her daughters have wedded their father's foe ; 
The Ishmaelite feasts in the Hebrew's hall. 
And vengeance weeps for the sword of Saul. 



DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 129 

PARAPHRASE OF JOB IX. 



In Heaven He holds his bright abode, 

Enthron'd in living flame ; 
Then how shall man be just with God 

Or dare to speak his name ; 

He breaks the fountains of the deep ; 

The heavens obey His will ; 
And forth the forked lightnings leap 

His fiats to fulfil. 

He rides upon the stormy wave, 

Or soars beyond the sun ; 
And stars His path supernal pave, 

While in their spheres they run. 

A returns owns His guiding hand, 

To Him the Pleiads blaze, 
Orion sheds o'er many a land 

The rapture of his praise. 

Lo ! through the air His spirit flies, 

Mysterious in its source; 
And none but Heaven's archangel eyea 

Can track its onward course. 

His anger smites the sinner down. 

Earth's riches are His spoil ; 
Despair and death are in His fro^v^l, 

But rapture in His smile. 

And who shall say " What dost thou, Lord ?" 

Or hinder His decree ; 
Creation trembles at His word — 

He gives and takes away. 



130 DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 

The record of his pow'r is grand, 
It spreads from pole to pole ; 

But how shall mortals understand 
The mysteries of the soul. 

Oh ! well may erring spirits dread 
The chastening of his rod ; 

For where' s the daysman that shall plead 
The soul's offense with God? 



ODE TO THE ST. LAWRENCE. 



River of rivers, thy waters are flowing, 

Like the swift moments unfetter'd and free ; 

On thy smooth current the soft breezes blowing, 
Fan thee along to the fathomless sea. 

On thy green margin the cattle are grazing; 

Cheerily singeth the rustic his song ; 
Low in the sunlight the vessel is lazing, 

Waiting the breezes to waft her along. 

In yon fair bight while the branches are shading 
Lilies that float where the mudsucker feeds ; 

Through the tall rushes the heron is wading. 

And the shelldiver nurtures her chick in the weeds. 

Landscapes are mutable, nations are changing, 
Laurels are fading, and triumphs are won ; 

Friendships are lost, and afiections estranging. 
But thou art the same, rolling silently on. 

Thou art the same as when Cartier unfolding 
France's proud flag, set his foot on thy shore ; 

Thou art the same as when Cabot beholding 
Worth in the soil, hoisted Britain's before. 



DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 131 

Onward and onward, thy waters are gliding, 

Wealth on thy bosom, content at thy side, 
Two infant nations, their commerce dividing, 

Join hands of fraternity over thy tide. 



GREECE. 



There points thy Muse to strangers' eye, 

The graves of those that cannot die. — Byron— 77i<r Giaour. 

The rippling billows kiss the land, 

On bold CoUona's steep ; 
And Athens' gilded turrets stand. 
Like monuments sublime and grand. 
The pride of stern Cephissas' strand. 

Where Hesiod's relics sleep. 

There sang of yore the Orphean muse ; 

There dawn'd the powers of art, 
While Homer's strains their fires infuse, 
Or Mirandali weeps her dews, 
The child of song shall never lose 

Thy memory from his heart. 

Sing Britains' proud Thalia, sing 

O'er Islam's prouder spoil; 
When Thesbian sons of battle bring 
Their tributes to a Paynin king. 
Well may the knell of freedom ring, 

O'er every race and soil. 

The Shah resumes his conquer'd crown. 

The Greek assumes his chains ; 
And of the brave who stood alone, 
Where freedom's battle flag was blown, 
O'er Leuctra, Ipsus, Marathon, 

Their memory but remains. 



132 DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 

O Helle! hath thy feeble brood 

Forgotten that stern day, 
When Spartan sons heroic stood 
In black Thermopylae of blood, 
Where Xerxes host, in bitter mood, 

Three Plundred held at bay? 

When bold Agesilaus' band 

On red Coroneia met. 
Both Thebes and Corinth hand in hand, 
With helots from the Argian strand, 
Till blood like water drench'd the land 

Or e'er the sun was set. 

When Attica's phalanx of steel 

Assailing iJellium's gate. 
Made stern Boetias' warriors reel, 
And each fraternal foeman feel 
The bitter vengeance Greeks could deal 

On those who rous'd their hate. 

Have ye forgot the voice of air, 

That o'er Coulouri cried, 
Forward, Aegina ! Athens rear 
The banner of thy goddess there, 
And let the haughty Persian bear 
The recompense of pride ! 

And Gaugamela's gory plain, 

And Eureymedon' tide ; 
And dark Sillesia's thousand slain, 
Wliere Cleomenes' warlike train 
Were routed in disgrace and pain, 

Ere Sparta's glory died. 

Land of philosophy and war. 

Where are thy glories now? 
No more Bellona mounts her car, 



DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 133 

Nor peals her trumpet notes afar ; 

No more red I'attle's burning star 

Shall light the warrior's brow. 

High o'er Apollo's sacred fane, 

The glimmering crescent shines ; 
The alien's foot is on tliy plain, 
And all thy beauties that remain 
Is where kind Nature holds her reign 

Amid Livadia's vines. 

Thy deeds of chivalry are done, 

Deserted is thy shore ; 
No brave Pnsanias' sword is drawn, 
No Solon mounts the Herald's stone, 
Those days are past, their heroes gone, 

Ulysses lives no more. 



INCIDENT OF THE BATTLE OF RICHMOND. 



There are forms of greatness that die and make no sign. There are heroes 
without the laurel, and conquerors without the triumph. 

On the trampled dust of the bloody plain, 

"With the light scarce dead in his sweet blue eye, 

A youth was stretch'd mid the gory slain, 
With his face upturn'd to the summer sky. 

Around him slumber'd a thousand dead, 
But he was the fairest of all the throng ; 

For it seemd at the trumpet's note he fled 

From his mother's voice and the nursery song. 

'Tis the call of his country to strike for right, 
And her martial glory he long'd to share ; 

His blade was red from the reeking figtt, 
And hie ashes lay eold and unburied there. 



134 dr£ams of the siesta. 

Draw nigh, and behold on the pale young face, 
Half hid in the tresses of golden hair, 

What a smile of peace and ineffable grace 
The bloodless lips in their slumber wear. 

And what is yon treasure he seeks to save, 
So tightly claspd in his stiffened hand ? 

'Tis the little bible a mother gave, 

When he march'd away with his gallant band. 

The page is stained with a drop of blood. 
But the holy hope of his soul we see — 

/ will not despair, ihongh I cross the flood, 
For thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. 



PROVIDENCE. 



There is a sovereign Power unseen, 

That man's career assigns ; 
A power on which the soul may lean, 

When earthly strength declines. 

And when the chains of slumber bind 

The passions of the breast, 
And only dreams invade the mind, 

To soothe or mar our rest ; 

That Power with fondest care defends 

The fountain of our life, 
And with the mind's oblivion, lends 

New strength to meet the strife. 

O Sovereign Lord ! who rulest all 

In heaven or earth below, 
Let me, whate'er of ill befaH, 

Thy guardianship still know ! 



DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 135 

In darkest night or brightest day, 

Live by thy pow'r alone ; 
And keep my spirit, Lord ! I pray 

From trusting to its own. 



DOMESTIC DISCORD. 



In former ages, so the fable reads, 

When individual marriages were thought 

A sad debasement ; and religious creeds 

Were somewhat lax in propagating what 

Our moral ritual teaches in regard 

To deuterogamy, or the second wife : 

There dwelt a man who deemed it monstrous hard 

That he should pass restricted thro' this life. 

And lavish all the graces of his mind. 

Which ladies say were either false or few. 

On one poor tib: he felt his heart inclin'd 

And yearning mightily for number two. 

The wife in proper strenuously did act 

Against his godless purpose, for withal, 

She knew his love a decent stature lack'd, 

And split in twain, her moiety must be small. 

Now both the wights were waxen well in years ; 

And fit it were to banish carnal wishes ; 

But such old fagots, it forsooth appears, 

In life's declining moments grow more vicious. 

Gray hairs he had and many a deep-drawn furrow, 

Which spoke him past the season of his prime ; 

These were perchance the fruit of early sorrow 

And those the necessary marks of time. 

So when the modern damsel had been brought, 

So bright and comely to the outward eye, 

The two fell roystering, and straightway fought — 

She and the elder, in resentment high, 

Against the outrage practic'd by her lord 



136 DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 

In bearing home a punket to his breast. 

And thus the twain for weeks and fortnights war'd, 

"With pangs of mutual jealousy distrest. 

And oft the elder under sly pretence 

Of fond endearment, would caress her lord ; 

While, unobserved, her fingers would commence 

Plucking the darkest hairs from out his beard 

And dappled crown, inspired by artful aim, 

That he being old and gray might better prize 

An helpmate like himself; and thus her claim 

Might supersede her rival's am'rous sighs. 

But schemes insidnous usually receive 

But sorry favor from the Paphian Queen ; 

And even the younger, striving to deceive 

In like direction, sadly fail'd to wean 

His heart entire ; for while she pluck'd the gray, 

The elder leman in his love enthrall'd, 

Still singled out the black from day to day, 

And neither sped, for lo ! the man was bald. 



THE ERRING SHAFT. 



I saw a form of matchless mould 
In death's pale livery drest, 

His eyes were clos'd his bosom cold 
In never ending rest. 

But boyhood's bloom was on his brow, 
And 'neath the clustering hair, 

His marble features wore a glow 
Of peace, divinely fair. 

A sorrowing sister bended near 

Where his cold ashes lay, 
And many a deep and silent tear, 

Embaim'd the sunlass ciay. 



DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 137 

I heard again the matin bell 

Ring through the merry land, 
While on the ear melodious fell 

The choral anthem grand. 

The solemn strain roll'd soft and sweet 

Upon the liquid air, 
And happy faces throng'd to greet 

The newly wedded pair. 

I saw a maiden's blushing face, 

So beautiful and shy ; 
I deem'd it more than mortal grace 

That sparkled in her eye. 

But by her side all powder'd o'er 

From man's departing prime, 
Was one, whose charms had fled before 

The withering march of time. 

His costly garb, and gems of gold 

Could not conceal from view. 
The furrow'd lines, that plainly told 

Life's debt fast coming due. 



Now, how doth it hap, in amazement I cried, 

That the aged remain when the youthful have died 

And stand at the altar to be thus allied, 

In the mantle of years to a beautiful bride ? 

'Twere fitter the garland of love had entwin'd 
That forehead so gentle, beloved and kind, 

So lately I saw to its slumber resign' d, 
On a pillow of clay in its cofiin confin'd. 



138 DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 

Doth the Father of Mercy desire to save 

The feeble and old, while He smiteth the brave ? 

And Echo replied from her garrulous cave — 
I'll tell thee this riddle of love and the grave. 



In Esop's boyhood, in Boetian shades, 

Young Cupid sported mid the fabled throng 

Of naiads, dryads, godesses and gods 

Of wood or stream, that haunt that classic clime 

Terraqueous ; till, fatigued with antic play, 

He stretched him down within a grotto cool, 

To rest and dream upon diviner themes. 

Now this lone grotto was the cave of Death, 

Whose feather'd darts lay scatter' d all around ; 

And Cupid's fardel, when the urchin woke, 

Had broken loose and let his arrows out 

'Mid those of Death. And being darkly blind 

He could but ill distinguish 't\yixt the two, 

And oft mistaking, to secure his own 

Did quiver Death's instead. Thus doth it hap 

That, tipp'd with venom, his destructive darts 

Transfix the bosoms of the young and fair. 

While Cupid's twanging from the string of Death, 

Delight the souls he purpos'd to destroy. 



MIDNIGHT ADDRESS TO THE MANES. 



His own soul, 
The marvel of the everlasting will. — Tennyson. 

Spirits of the voiceless dead ! 

Intangible, eternal, rob'd in mystery ; 
Come in pale midnight drapery array'd, 

And tell mv soul vour wondrous historv. 



DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 139 

If, as it hath been testified of old, 

In forms all bodiless ye wander forth, 
And in the holy hours of darkness hold 

Your silent vigils o'er the scenes of earth ; • 

Say, to what unseen land 

My spirit shall repair. 
When death dissolves the band 

That binds it to its care. 

The wise Koheleth says, that on the day 

'Tis call'd away from earth, 
It leave.5 its mouldering- tenement of clay, 

Returning back to Him who gave it birth. 

Can it then be ye sprites that roam abroad, 

And on the silver moonbeams fly, 
That ye descend as messengers of God, 

From the great throne on high ? 

Or do ye wait 

In {©rial regions, wafted to and fro. 
The last high tribunal of endless fate. 

To reap the harvest of your deeds below ? 

My soul ere long must leave its dust behind 

To join your winged throng ; 
But ne'er till crown' with amaranth, shall find 

To what strange realm the shades of men belong. 

But never let me feel a dread 

Lest those departed heavenward reappear, 
For if in sleep they hover o'er my head, 

'Tis angels' fellowship, and God Himself is near. 



140 DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 

FRAILTY OF MAN'S STATE. 

No bud of pleasure here on earth 
Can bear the flower of peace ; 

For seeds of sorrow, sown in birth, 
Spring forth as years increase. 

The soul may sip from every stream 

Of passion's foul excess, 
'Twill prove, however sweet it seem, 

A fountain of distress. 

To me the flattering voice of Fame, 

Or parasitic praise, 
To please a blind ambition came 

In boyhood's early days. 

I knelt at beauty's shrine, elate 

With all my fancy j^riz'd. 
And learn'd, but learn'd alas ! too late, 

Such charms should be despis'd. 

With languid hope and spirit sore, 

I sought to find relief. 
In drinking from the fount of love 

Deep physic for my grief. 

" Of making books there is no end," 
Was wisdom's warning cry ; 

Much study weariness will lend, 
Go, man, and learn to die. 

I've tried each earthly charm but wealth, 

Of all most insecure ; 
But poets find their saving health 

In being always poor. 



DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 141 

Then to the Scripture record given, 

I turn'd me in despair, 
But till I thought and dream'd of Heaven, 

I found no promise there. 



THE INVOCATION. 



Despise not thou the chastening of the Almighty. — Job v., 17. 

The lamp in the chamber was burning, 

Where a beautiful infant lay ; 
And the heart of a mother was mourning 

The soul that was passing away. 

And she wept in affectionate sorrow, 

Each gasp of its flickering breath ; 
For she knew ere the dawn of the morrow, 

'Twould be rob'd in the mantle of death. 

There lone in solicitude kneeling, 

She pray'd to her Father above, 
That He might be kind in his dealing. 

And spare the first fruit of her love. 

She pray'd and her sorrow was lighten'd, 

Hope kindled a beam in her heart; 
And 'ere the next morrow had brighten'd, 

That pray'r had accomplish'd its part. 

Her dear cherish'd offspring was sleeping, 
And death had relinquish'd his prey ; 

While a mother transported was weeping 
In joy o'er the cot where he lay. 

Then she worship'd the Lord for His kindness, 

In restoring the hope of her heart ; 
But little she dream'd in her blindness, 

'Twere better to let him depart. 



142 DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 

She saw hiin a boy in his beauty ; 

A man in his vigorous prime; 
But his soul oft neglected its duty, 

And a mother oft wept at the crime. 

In the slippery pathway of evil, 
She smil'd on his beautiful face ; 

Though she knew him in bonds to the devil, 
Led far from the fountain of grace. 

She saw him in pangs agonizing, 
Bewailing the day of his birth ! 

And she thought of her prayers ever rising, 
For his longer probation on earth. 

And she cried, in the depth of her anguisK, 
Great God ! Thou hast broken the spell , 

When T saw him in innocence languish 
Oh why did my spirit rebel ? 



When the fountain of sorrow is flowing, 
And robbing our bosoms of rest ; 

Lord ! teach us the beauty of knowing, 
That Thou orderest all for the best. 



YOU NAUGHTY GIRLS. 



I will never more believe you 
Nor with loving arms receive you, 
But I'll die a bach' to grieve you, 

O you naughty, naughty girls ! 
For when you heard me sighing 
That my heart ^^as surely dying, 
With the love there's no denying, 

How you laugli'u you wicked girls ! 



DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 143 

When my noble muse was rhymin' 
Sonnets to the shrine of Hymen, 
How you call'd me " Simple Simon," 

O you bold-fac'd saucy girls ! 
How your artful wliispers fed me, 
And from every virtue led me, 
Till my nightly slumber fled me 

O you vile, deceitful girls I 

While to chaperon your graces 
All envelop'd in French laces, 
Oft to smile on other faces, 

O you naughty, naughty girls ! 
Summoned without word of warning, 
Every proffer'd reason scorning, 
Lancers, jig, or waltz till morning, 

Just to please you, naughty girls ! 

After all we claim a favor. 
Just one parting kiss, to flavor 
Stupid dreams, with pleasant savor, 

And you scratch us, naughty girls ! 

But I dote upon my d 1 

Even when she's most uncivil, 
She's a necessary evil, 

And a naughty — no, delightful girl. 



THE PRUNING OF THE VINES. 



Every branch that beareth fruit, He purgeth it, that it may bring forth 
more fruit. — John xv. 2. 

In the cold dismal street, 

'Mid the fast falling sleet. 
Stood a beggar despised and forlorn ; 

And I saw a rich wight. 

When he cried for a mite, 
Pass by with a motion of scorn. 



144 DREAMS OF THE SlEstA. 

But I saw that proud man 

When his miseries began, 
For his riches had vanish'd away ; 

And that pitiful cry 

Seem'd to come from the sky, 
As he knelt in his hovel to pray. 

His vine had been prun'd by the hand of the Lord, 
That its fruit might enrich his eternal reward. 

A fond mother smil'd 

O'er the cot of her child, 
As it lay in its slumber of joy ; 

And whisper'd so low, 

As she kiss'd his soft brow, 
Heaven shield thee, my beautiful boy ! 

But the coldness of death 

Chill'd the fount of his breath, 
And he flew from his sorrows below ; 

While the tears that were shed 

On the turf at his head, 
Told the parents how deep was their woe. 

Their vine had been prun'd by the hand of the Lord, 
That its fruit might enrich their eternal reward. 

At the hallowing shrine 

Of affection divine, 
I saw a fair bride in her youth ; 

And the love of her heart. 

Like a fountain did start, 
From the fathomless ocean of truth. 

And a heavenly grace 

Lit her beautiful face, 
As she trustingly bent to his will ; 

And the lightning of joy 

Flash'd bright from her eye. 
When he promised to shield her from ill. 



DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 145 

But I saw her once more, 

On a far distant shore, 
Where sorrow had dawn'd on her day, 

And that form was bent low, 

'Neath the burden of woe, 
As she wept o'er her darling's cold clay. 

Her vine had been prun'd by the hand of the Lord, 
That its fruit might enrich her eternal reward. 



ODE TO CONTENTMENT. 



Come in, thou bright and heavenly guest ! 
And make thy dwelling in my breast ; 

Oh ! never hence depart ! 
Stay, stay, and let my spirit share 
Thy smile, that sweetens every care, 

And gladdens every heart. 

Thy presence cheers Misfortune's face, 
And lends to penury a grace 

That wealth can ne'er bestow ; 
Then come and make thy home with me, 
Reign in my heart, and I shall be 

Divinely blest below. 

I'd envy not the rich and great, 
Nor covet power nor gaudy state. 

Nor claim a loftier sphere ; 
My wealth should be what Heaven provides, 
And seeking nothing more besides, 

Live ever happy here. 

My home should be an humble cot. 
In some sequester'd, silent spot, 



146 DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 

And wandering through the sylvan glade, 
Each bird that warbled in the shade, 
Should cheer my lonely life. 

I'd read the book of Nature through, — 
The tender flow'r, the sparkling dew, 

The streamlet as it flow'd ; 
Each should its tale of wisdom tell, 
And when the shades of evening fell. 

Alone, I'd worship God. 



IN HOC SIGNO VINCES. 



The lambent Cross in heaven that hung 

Its glory on the cloud, 
When proud Aurelius' pagan tongue 

First utter'd pray'r to God ; 
A pledge of warlike triumph gave, 

'Twas on their banners worn ; 
And o'er old Tiber's turgid wave, 

The blood-stain'd Cross was borne. 

It made Creation's children free, 

On Calvary planted high ; 
Where meek-ey"d Mercy wept to see 

The Pilgrim Prophet die. 
And still the blessed symbol shines, 

To us the promise given ! 
The Cross that broke the jjagan shrines 

Now lights the way to heaven. 

When sorrow's billows fret and toss 

Around the troubled breast, 
Faith points the soul to Jesus' Cross, 

And Love performs the rest. 



DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 147 

Then let us wave the standard high, 

The Christian's conquering sign ; 
Fight 'neath its folds, and victory 

Shall on our banners shine. 



AFAR IN THE WEST. 

Afar in the West, where the wild flow'rs are winding, 
A beautiful shroud o'er the dust of the dead, 

We laid her to rest, with the tears dimly blinding 
Our eyes, for the smile that in darkness had fled. 

Too pure was her soul to be wither'd by sorrow ; ' 
Too holy her love to be wasted on earth ; 

But the floweret that sleeps at the dawn of the morrow 
Shall start from its slumbers to heavenly birth. 

When the shadov/s of eve o'er the landscape are stealing, 
And Nature lies hush'd in the cradle of rest ; 

Then memory unseals the deep fountain of feeling. 
And, dreaming, I gaze on that flower of the West. 

But we would not recall thee, nor ask thee to barter 
The joys of the blest, for earth's sorrow and gloom ; 

Though Love may lament thy untimely departure. 
And pour her full grief o'er the dust of thy tomb. 



THE MARRIAGE OF THE SEASON. 



Hurrah ! hurrah ! for a moonlight ride, 
For old Winter hath wedded his chosen bride. 
And her vestal garment is flowing wide. 
O'er the forest so cold and bright. 



148 DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 

Let us forth to the nuptials with joyous zeal, 
While the sleigh bells are ringing a merry peal ; 
Let no lingering sadness over us steal, 
For this is his wedding night. 

The moonbeams are dancing across the plain, 
And the North Wind whistles a nierry strain. 
As down the valley and through the lane 
He speeds on his mission of mirth. 

The eyes are bright in the heavens to-night 
That twinkle with joy on the gladsome rite ; 
And the echoes sing through the forest white. 
Old Winter hath wedded the Earth. 

Away ! away ! with hearts so gay, 
While the shadows around us sport and play. 
And the whispering breezes seem to say — 
Farewell to the golden year. 

Away, my steed ! with a frolicsome speed, 
O'er the ice drops that break like an amber bead; 
For the starlights are gleaming o'er moor and mead, 
And the gray dappled morn draweth near. 

The bride is won, and the bridal is done. 
And home from the revel in haste we run; 
Ere the burnish'd rings of the rising sun. 

On the brow of the mountain appear. 



DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 149 

THE SOLEMNITY OF SOLITUDE. 

And Thou, my God, whose piercing eye 

Distinct surveys each deep recess ; 

In these abstracted hours draw nigh, 

And with Thy presence fill the place.— Phillip Doddridge. 

Thou solemn temple of the most sublime ! 

Eternal Solitude ! incipient spouse 

Of God, and mother of the universe ! 

Bend thy gray head, and let thy reverend ear 

Drink in the thoughts that from my swelling soul, 

Like the deep bubbling of a mountain spring, 

When from the fullne?s of her laboring womb 

It bursts in currents chrystalliz'd and pure, 

Such is the soul's devotion 'Neath this arch, 

Whose leafy gates each harsher sound exclude, 

The thirsty mind imbibes a calmer bliss, 

Than human fellowship bestows. The eye 

Can here behold the handicraft of God, 

His matchless skill in every line disj^lay'd ; 

His spirit life that dwells and breathes in all. 

The whispering leaves that with ten thousand tongues, 

In sweet colloquial intercourse, prolong'd 

From morn till night, from night till dewy morn, 

Sing the glad themes that from the ravish'd tongue 

Of Eden's Lord in sylvan anthems rose. 

The wild flow'r flourishing as when it came 

With wakening tinctures manifold and fair, 

From God's all procreant hand. The birds of voice, 

Tuning their melodies inspired and taught, 

When, called from out chaotic interval, 

By the strong fiat of his will they came. 

These stand unchang'd, and Time, whose chariot shakes 

In swift career, the brazen battlements 

And solid permanence of throned kings, 

Leaves scarce a mark on Nature's lovely form. 

There hangs the same blue empyrean arch, 

That glittering canopied the infant world ; 

The same soft breezes tempering the air, 



150 DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 

The calm and silver clouds, tlie golden sun, 

The stars impennuous, seen like waning lamps 

Behind the richer reservoir of heat, 

And as reluctant of complete eclipse 

Shedding a mediocrity of light. 

All nature smiles as when the voice divine 

Pronounc'd its benison on the universe, 

And only man who stood above the whole, 

Invested ruler, sublunary lord, 

And little lower than the angel host ; 

Man, at whose fabrication Heaven and Earth 

Burst forth in strains of ecstasy divine. 

While even the Great Artificgr Himself 

Declar'd the deed magnificent, now walks 

Beside the ox that grazes on the plain. 

And feels himself more despicable far. 

If aught of calm reflection stir his soul, 

In this probationary state than he. 

Though unendow'd with rational desires. 

But thanks to God, whose love could ne'er direct 

The doom of one to His own life allied ; 

Man hath a hope that reaches where the mould 

Of things material can never rise, 

And, reimplanted in its kindred soil. 

The bud of immortality shall bloom 

In glory greater than its birthday knew. 



MEMORIES OF THE PAST. 

Sad are my thoughts alone. — Song of Vinvela, in Carric Thura. 
With what power the soul's reflection 
Charms to flight our phantom fears, 
When our thoughts in dark aflliction. 
Wander back to bygone years. 

In those happy hours revealing 

Joys which with our childhood end. 

Lightly o'er our senses stealing, 
Comes the form of many a friend. 



DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 151 

See the time-worn cottage peering, 

Crown'd with ivy's emerald wreath, 
Whispering boughs their mantle sharing, 

Shield it from the tempest's breath. 

Fancy follows Memory's finger, 

To that spot where sorrow fades ; 
Oh ! let boyhood's relics linger 

Sweetly 'neath thy sylvan shades. 

Parents, kindred, all have perish'd. 

Swept away by Time's cold blast ; 
Thou, old Home ! though fondly cherish'd. 

Must to dust decay at last. 

Fare ye well, O youth and pleasure ! 

Lingering long, we look behind ; 
And our tear— an angel's treasure, 

Speaks of friends we ne'er shall find. 

Can we now when ills befall us, 

Claim a mother's fondest care ? 
Can a father's voice recall us, 

Should the tempter's wiles ensnare ? 

Can we lay us down at even. 

On the pillow of our youth. 
While protecting prayers to Pleaven, 

Sweetly rise on wings of truth? 

Vain reflection, all are vanish'd. 

And may Mercy guide our feet, 
To that land where cares are banish'd. 

Where as brothers all shall meet ! 

There, though earthly hopes be blighted, 

Mortal members rack'd with pain. 
Friend with friend once more united. 

Shall with love forever reign. 



152 DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 

A WINTER EVENING. 



Come, thaw the cold, and lay a cheerful pile 
Of fuel on the hearth ! 

Horace — Tra?ts. Cowpe 

Now the sun, with waning splendor, 
Glimmers thro' the leafless wood ; 

Casting shadows tall and slender, 
O'er the rivei-'s frozen flood. 

Dismally the forest creaking. 

Sounds beneath the tempest's tread ; 

While the kine, a refuge seeking, 
Huddle 'neath the friendly shed. 

Winds are moaning, shutters swinging 
With a sad unmeasur'd sound ; 

While along the caves are clinging 
Spires that almost touch the ground. 

Now the parting beams ascending, 
Rest upon yon summit pale ; 

While along the earth extending, 
Evening deepens o'er the vale. 

Rising upward, slow and stately, 
Luna's silver beams unfold, 

O'er the landscape, that so lately 
Shone in tints of burnish'd gold. 

Bright the silver stars are twinkling, 
And from every sheated bough, 

Chrystal icicles are tinkling 
On the crisp and frozen snow. 

Leafless oaks, like giants keeping 
Watch o'er Nature's wintry rest, 

Even the squirrel, no longer peeping. 
Dozes in his mossy nest. 



DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 153 

Bnt within the fagot blazes, 

And composed secure and snug, 
In its glow the lurcher lazes 

On the warm and shaggy rug. 

T>rowsy from prolonged leisure, 

Or disturb'd by childish din ; 
See him start with doubtful pleasure, 

Snarl, and stretch his sleepy chin. 

Snarl as if he meant a warning 

To the heedless romping band, 
Who, the premonition scorning. 

Pluck him with mischievous hand. 

Then the sire, with gentle chiding, 

Peers across his open book ; 
Where the little knaves are hiding, 

Fearful of his stern rebuke. 

While the dame, with busy fingers 

Plies the oft reverted thread ; 
Or with love maternal, lingers 

O'er her sleeping cherub's bed. 

Whispering low a tender blessing. 

Breathing soft a sacred prayer ; 
Or the little cheek caressing. 

As it kneels beside her chair. 

How such scenes of bliss remind us 

Of the joys our spirit knew, 
In that home so far behind us. 

Where our thoughtless childhood grew. 

Hours when Hope's bright star was bui'ning. 

O'er youth's heaven serene and clear ; 
Now, on Memory's wings returning. 
Wake the spirit's sorrowing tear. 
II 



154 DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 

We a mother's fond affection 

Knew, but ne'er may know again ; 

Feeling all our youth's defection, 
Makes us proud that we are men. 

Oh ! could we, our lives recasting, 
Know once more that mother's care ; 

But away, 'tis vain contrasting 
"What we are with what we were. 

Man hath but a scanty measure 

Of felicity on earth ; 
One short interspace of pleasure, 

'Twixt his boyhood and his birth. 

And he drinks, while scarcely knowing, 
Deeply from the ambrosial cup ; 

Till, from manhood's fountain flowing. 
Sorrow falls in every cup. 

Round the hearth the throng collected, 
Watch the fagots' flickering light; 

While the fireside sport's neglected 
At the eve's accustom'd rite. 

From the sweet prophetic pages, 
Solemnly the father reads ; 

Words that will survive the ages, 
By the light their sapience sheds. 

Words of deep, mysterious meaning, 
And each happy, childish face. 

Wisdom from the lesson gleaning. 
Wears a look of soberer grace. 

Kneeling there, Avith reverence lowly, 
Round the sacred family shrine; 

Words of prayer sublime and holy, 
Ris? to Heaven on wings divine. 



DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 155 

Words of reverend supplication, 

Fitting prelude to our rest ; 
Feeling that the invocation 
Utter'd now, may be our last. 

Ah ! 'twere well in every dwelling 

Thus to hear the voice of praise ; 
Hear the psalm of triumph swelling, 

As in patriarchal days. 

Then our land, with faith increasing. 

Triumphing in freedom's fight ; 
Should pertake the promised blessing, 

Shed o'er Justice, Truth, and Eight. 

Now the household all retiring. 

To somnific comforts flown, 
Leave the midnight lamp expiring, 

And the moralist alone. 



THE MAPLE'S LAMENT. 



Cold Autumn ! why comest thou over the land, 
To mar with thy touch my vernal form? 

Thou scatterest my robe with relentless hand. 
And leavest me shivering to winter's storm. 

My robe is torn, and its sunder' d shreds 
Are filling with gold the forest bowers ; 

On its faded fringe the brown squirrel treads. 
As he garners his store for the wintry hours. 

The birds that sang in my curtain'd bough, 
Their innocent measures of thoughtless love, 

Have fled, for my bo=iom is barren now. 
And cold as the blast that howls above. 



156 DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 

Alas ! for my beautiful robe of green ; 

My sorrowing eyelids the dewdrops shed ; 
Weep woodlands, wherever rude Autumn hath been, 

Oh ! weep for the pride of our lives is fled. 

Weep floweret! that sprang 'neath my sombre shade, 
When thy beautiful head was young in birth, 

My mantle the scathing sunbeams stay'd, 
And made thee a gem on the lap of earth. 

But now, when the pitiless wind blows chill. 
And Winter is showing his scowling face ; 

Bend down, fair flower, we must yield to his will, 
For his herald proclaims him in every place. 

But oh ! when the fields from their rest revive. 
And this mantle of snow from their bosoms fling ; 

In his season of grief thy germ shall live, 

And we'll sweetly smile in the arms of Spring. 



NEW YEAR'S DAY. 



There's a new foot on the floor, my friend, 
And a new face at the door, my friend, 
A new face at the door. — Tennyson. 

All hail ! thou bright and happy morn, 
That comest with radiance to adorn 

The opening of the year. 
While memory wafts our fancy back, 
Adown Time's dim and fading track. 

How chang'd the scenes appear. 

How many hearts, now sever'd wide. 
With happy hopes stood side by side 

One year ago to-day ! 
How many a torn and bleeding breast, 



DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 157 

Hath found in death its final rest, 
And slumbers in the day ! 

Heaven, to each heart whom ills among 
Send bright- wing' d Peace and halcyon Joy ! 

Oh ! comfort the distress'd ! 
Feed the lone poor with bounteous hand, 
And give sweet peace to every land 

By envious War oppressed. 

Hark ! how the merry sleigh bells ring, 
Blythe hearts with burning pulses, wing 

The laughing hours away ; 
While 'tis our sad and lonely part 
To nurse the sorrows of a heart 

That once was light as they. 

But time, nor mirth, can e're erase 
The smile of that fraternal face 

That lately shared our joys ; 
Although we feel he's happier far 
Where neither grief nor pain can mar 

The rest his soul enjoys. 

Farewell, old Season! yield thy trust. 
Time deems the swift succession just ; 

'Tis he that doth deprive ; 
We'll hang his glass upon the wall. 
And mark what glorious hopes shall fall, 

Ere Eighteen Seventy-five. 



15S DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 

MY SOUL IS SORROWFUL. 



Matt., xxvi., 38. 

When Sorrow folds her brooding wing, 
And Hope forsakes her fallen shrine, 
What sweeter balm can memory bring- 
To soothe this bleeding heart of mine. 
In Gethsemane 
He tcept Jor me ! 

Should fond affection linger near 

When life's last sunshine flickereth low, 
May Love repel the rising tear 
And waft my soul from all below ! 
On Calvary 
He died for me ! 

On Jordan's shore, 'mid storm and gloom, 

His pilgrim footprints still I see ; 
Spes men Christos, for the tomb 
Is swallow'd up in victory. 
All potent plea, 
He rose for me ! 

In Heaven's bright courts, the seraph throng. 

Shall mount the air on golden wing, 
And waft the echoing strains along — 
" Hosanna to our God and King ! 
Praise ! praise thou son of man redeem'd and free, 
He wept, He died, He rose, He reigns for thee.''' 



DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 159 

TO MISS 



The star that lights our path to-day, 
With brigiit effulgence beams ; 

While love and joy along our way, 

Triumphant hold alternate sway, 

And hope illumes with cheering ray 
The landscape of our dreams. 

But soon afflictions gather fast, 

The fount of sorrow flows; 
The auspicious morn is overcast, 
And not one link remains at last. 
To join the future with the past, 

Save bitterest pain and woes. 

Love too, is fleeting as a dream. 
It flies from charm to charm ; 

'Tis like the falling meteor's gleam 

That lights the heavens with transient beam, 

Or bubbling of a crystal stream. 
That freezes in the storm. 

The bloom that mantles Beauty's brow 

If but a fading crown ; 
The loveliest form is soon laid low, 
As flowers that in the parterre glow, 
'Neath Autumn's chilling footsteps bow 

In wither'd beauty down. 

But in the wreck of all we see, 
'Mid pleasure, hope and pain, 

When fancy's fond illusions flee. 

And distance severs you and me, 

My sweetest thought shall rest with thee 
While life and thousht remain. 



160 DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 

SEEK YE THE LORD. 



Amos v. 
" Who shall the vengeance of our God defy ? 

Seek ye the Lord" — the hoary Prophet calls ; 
" Turn yet and live O House of Israel ! Why 
Should Heaven's displeasure rest upon ^our walls? 
Turn to the God whose power subdued thy foes ; 
Who smote the oppressor with unnumber'd woes 

And made your fathers free ! 
Who broke captivity's corroding chain ! 
The lambent light that glow'd on Etham's plain, 
When Egypt's chivalry in startled pain, 

Sank in the refulgent sea !" 

That voice was lost ; and o'er the sleeping land 

The angel Mercy wav'd her chastening rod ; 
Kebellious Gilgal's pamper'd children stand 
To feel the vengeance of an angry God. 
For Israel's sins like fetid odors rise, 
On idol incense to the offended skies ; 

Wierd Famine stalks alone; 
Smiting the spoiler in Jehovah's name, 
While the gray Prophet doth survey with shame 
His people's whoredoms, whose foul altars flame 
To gods of brass and stone. 

Beware my country ! America beware ! 

A cry of hunger rises o'er the land ; 
Vanity hath eaten up the Avidow's share, 
And wasted blessings Avith a wanton hand. 
Ye who the honor of your name abuse, 
Who *' buy the needy for a pair of shoes," 

Or " refuse of the wheat ;" 
Ye who at baleful Mammon's altar bow, 
The equal rights of Penury disavow. 
With hard exactions from the poor man's brow. 

The offering of his sweat. 



DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. • 161 

Beware ye proud, who tread in purple dress 

With haughty footsteps down the sacred aisle ; 

Can ye expect that Heaven your souls will bless? 

Bless pride, hypocrisy and empty guile? 

Hush the vain clamor of your canting songs ! 

No pleasing melody to sin belongs; 
'Tis like the leper's breath. 

Break down the altars that forbidden rise, 

Like plagues to mock the mercies of the skies ; 

Know that in this a nation's glory lies, 
The garment of her faith. 



REST BROTHER, REST. 



He shall return no more to his house, neither shall his place know him any 
more.^ — Job vii. 10. 

Why should we weep o'er the coffin'd clay 

When all that it held is gone ? 
When the spirit is summoned from earth away, 
From a realm of darkness to perfect day, 
Oh ! help us in language of love to pray, 

Father, ''Thy will be done." 

Rest, Brother ! rest 'neath the drifting snow ! 

Rest on, thou hast run thy race! 
Thy dog may howl where the willows grow. 
And wander alone where the waters flow ; 
Thy caressing hand is cold and low, 

And he misses his master's face ! 

Rest on in thy peaceful, dreamless sleep, 

Thou knowest no sorrow nor pain ! 
Let the sighing tempest above thee sweep, 
And the visions of night their vigils keep, 
While we bow in our chamber alone to weep. 

And whisper the echoless name ! 



162 • DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 

Farewell ! we shall meet in a holier sphere, 

When the mystic veil is riven ; 
And the links that were severed in sorrow here, 
Shall be fasten'd again, and the silent tear 
That sprinkled the loved one's sable bier. 
Be remembered no more in heaven ! 

When our sorrowful pilgrimage here is o'er, 

And we pass through the silent tomb ; 
And follow thy flight to that shining shore. 
Where thy sun hath risen to set no more, 
Shall thy fingers unfasten the pearly door, 
And welcome the pilgrims home? 

INSCRIPTION. 

His wound is heal'd, his spirit with tbe just, 
Enjoys the rest which Heaven alone can give; 

While memory weeps above his senseless dust, 
Who tasted death ere others learn to live. 



WRITTEN IN MISS ENGLECHURCH'S ALBUM. 



Dear lady ! I a little fear 

'Tis dangerous to be writing here. — Daniel Webster. 

On every page, well pleas' d, I trace 
Warm wishes for thy future fame ; 

And mine must find an humble space, 

When Friendship pleads her modest claim. 

May thy best wish be ever thine ! 

In thee no ill desire may start ; 
And dove-ey'd Peace, with soul divine. 

Come down and nestle in thy heart. 

And if, perchance in lonelier times. 

Some heart should for thy favor search. 

And to atone for former crimes, 

Swear fond allegiance to the church ; 



DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. I(i3 

May all the happiness which springs 

From Hymen's sweet connubial thrall ; 
And every blessing wedlock brings 

Forever dwell within thy wall ! 

And down the trackless tide of years, 
May hope's bright planet light thy way ! 

Contented seal the fount of tears, 
And glory crown life's closing day ! 



ON THE DEATH OF A CHILD. 

SON OF MR. OF NEW YORK. 



Come near and bear the beautiful to rest ! — Mrs. Hemans. 

The cot is empty, the lonely room 

Resounds no more with his childish glee, 

For a whisper came through the darken'd tomb — 
"Suffer thv loved one to come unto me." 



Weep not young mother ! thy boy is laid 

On a bosom that beats with the tenderest love ; 

And his fair young form is in beauty array'd, 
To dwell in the mansions of bliss above. 

No sin e'er dawn'd on his spotless mind, 
But pure as the spirit that guards his rest, 

The only hurt that he left behind, 

Is that which bleeds in the mourner's breast. 

Darkly we watch'd while the taper burn'd. 

Sadly beheld its expiring ray ; 
Saw the loved ashes in silence urn'd, 

And laid to rest in their kindred clav. 



164 DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 

Plant one flower o'er the cherish'd dead, 
Drop on the fresh-turn' d sod a tear ; 

Raise a slab o'er the sleeping head, 

And write — " Our Willie is resting here." 

He that createth, 'tis His to slay, 

But He giveth again what is freely given ; 

When His voice from the rainbow throne shall say, 
** I took this blossom to bloom in Heaven." 

INSCRIPTION. 

We weep, but nature 'tis that sheds the tear, 
Faith bids us look to His divine abode ; 

And while the mortal guards his ashes here. 
The spirit views him resting with his God. 



CONDOLATORY LINES 

INSCRIBED TO A YOUNG LADY ON HEARING OF HER APPROACHING 
DISSOLUTION. 



Boast not thy victory, Death ! 
'TIs but a cloud o'er the sunbeam's power. — Mrs. Hemans. 

When the thoughts, releas'd from the world's control. 
Through the realms of fancy take their flight, 

And sweet repose o'er the weary soul, 

Comes down with the deepening shades of night. 

When the spirits of friends who are far away, 
In the mystic visions of sleep we see ; 

Or the heart returns to a happier day. 
Then lady, then do I dream of thee. 

"This world is the nurse of all we know, 
This world is the mother of all we feel ;" 

And often we strive to evade the blow 

That a Father in love to our souls doth deal. 



DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 165 

But Faith, with her eye on that better land, 

Triumphant enters the silent tomb; 
For she sees in the distance her Saviour stand, 

Like a star shining over her pathway home. 

If we rest in His mercy, then all is well, 

Though the waters of death around us roll ; 
He hath sounded the depths, and return'd to tell 

That the way is safe for the doubting soul. 

When the lessening light of the earth grows dim. 

And o'er thee the shades of Eternity meet ; 
Oh ! look in the spirit of faith to Him 

Whose word is a lamp to the pilgrim's feet. 

And if haply we meet on this earth no more, 

Farewell ! till we join in the realms above ; 
Where our spirits shall stand on that shining shore. 

And drink from the fount of eternal love. 



RURAL RETIREMENT VS. CITICISM. 



Nature, the vicar of the Almighty Lord. — Chaucer. 

I love 'neath the embryo foliage to wander, 

The steep frowning cliff, and the grass cover'd glade 

To cross the dark threshold of Solitude's chamber. 
And commune with my soul in the portals of shade. 

How rapture expands and the spirit entrances. 
When viewing some wild salutiferous scene, 

Where the deep river rolls or the cataract glances 
Its shivering spray down some rocky ravine. 

I've smil'd at the fluttering phantoms of fashion. 
Like bubbles disporting on life's rolling tide ; 

I've heard the lewd lisping of false aflectation, 

And turn'd with disgust from the minions of pride. 



166 DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 

Young Innocence whirl'd thro' the mazes of pleasure, 
From purity, down to the prisons of guile ; 

While the spirit, in quaffing from mirth's flowing measure, 
I've seen full of sorrow when mask'd with a smile. 

In the sacrosanct mansion of Solitude only, 
The spirit a lovelier picture may scan ; 

Oh ! Ketireraent is sweet to the heart that is lonely, 
And dearer to me than communion w'ith man. 

To the slumbering spirit that round me reposes, 
My sorrowful soul may unbosom her load ; 

While Echo her garrulous cavern uncloses, 
And whispers — bow down, 'tis the temple of Clod. 



SONNET. 



I love the flowers that sweetly spring. 
When Summer rests on her golden wing; 

The cobea vine. 

And the eglantine. 
That round the rough trunk of the maple cling. 

The linnet that pipeth her song of praise, 
Where the sunlight checkers the leafy sprays ; 

And the nightingale 

Of the rural vale, 
Where the moonlit foam of the streamlet strays. 

I love the light of a laughing eye. 

When the beams of love from its centre fly, 

And the ardent fire 

Of young desire. 
On the altar of innocence flameth high. 



DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 167 

But sweet to see, in the morn of life, 
The husband wed to a faithful wife, 

Whose sunny smile 

Illumes his toil, 
Like a tranquil star o'er the field of strife. 

But sweeter far, in the vale of years, 

Are the faithful hearts whom love endears, 

Who hand in hand. 

Walk down the strand, 
Till the rush of the river doth greet their ears. 

And when this soul to its home shall rise, 

Like a meteor spark through the heaven that flies, 

May a Friend more dear. 

Still hover near 
And light her path to the upper skies 1 



THE KRAKEN.* 



Where the morse of the Nordman sleepeth. 

In his palace of winter gloom, 
The Kraken forever leapeth 

In the ocean's laboring womb. 

He scatters the frozen mountains, 

Like foam drops to and fro ; 
And the stream of a hundred fountains. 

From his cavern nostrils flow. 

In the rush of his pride he casteth 

The ocean from his face ; 
And the stately vessel hasteth 

To death, in his cold embrace. 

* A fabulous animal supposed to exist in the Northern seas, of such an enor- 
mous size as to be capable of swallowing, not only ships, etc., but whole islands. 
Vide Chamber's Ency., vol. v. p. 821. 



168 DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 

Then down 'neath the Arctic diving, 
The eddying whirlpool roars ; 

And water, with water striving, 
Is lash'd on the sounding shores. 

Eeceive, O monarch of ocean ! 

From every stream and sea, 
The cephalopodic devotion 

Forever due to thee. 



WISDOM IS THE PRINCIPAL THING. 



Proverbs, iv., 7. 

Weeping or piping, piping or weeping. 
Cypress of mourning or myrtle of joy I 

Sleeping or waking, waking or sleeping, 
Still let this prayer every moment employ. 

" So teach us to number our days 

That we may apply our hearts unto wisdom !" 

Sowing or reaping, reaping or sowing, 
Pain to the body or peace to the soul; 

Rowing or resting; resting or I'owing, 
When the dark waves of adversity roll, 

" Let my cry come near Thee, O Lord ! 

Give me understanding according to Thy word !" 



ULL-ERIN. 



All glory to the infant Gael, 

Whose valor made the tyrant bow; 

And love to thee, sweet Inisfail, 

The brightest gem on Ocean's brow ! 



DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 169 

When great Rosecrana's minstrel son, 

In Cona swell'd his battle song ; 
The fame of Inisfail begun 

To brighten as time roIFd along. 

But now dishonor dims the beam, 

Since Tara's temples are decay'd ; 
And glory's half descended gleam 

But twinkles from Oppression's shade. 

Rise up pale spirit of the past ! 

Cruth-loda, mount thy flaming car, 
And, thron'd upon the moving blast. 

Discharge thy favoring bolts of war. , 

Lone hermit of the silent cave, 

Recall each spirit of the slain ; 
Who in the past with bosom brave, 
. Infring'd the haughty tyrants' chain. 

Sweet Erin ! land of love and war. 

My spirit weeps for thine and thee ; 
Oh ! when shall rise that flickering star 

Of freedom, o'er whom once were free ? 



CURTIUS' VALEDICTION TO THE ROMANS. 



Historians record as a fact the patriotic devotion of Curtius, who, when a 
yawning gulf suddenly appeared in the ancient Forum, which the augurs affirmed 
would never close until the most precious things in Rome were thrown into it, 
boldly leaped into the midst, declaring that nothing could be more truly valuable 
than patriotism and military virtue. 

Bear witness yet my countrymen ! and thou 
Beloved Rome ! for whom I now devote 
That life thy glory made illustrious ; and ye 
Patrician Senators, above whose heads 
The eagle banners of my country blaze ; 

12 



170' DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 

Ye Gods ! whose voices thundered in her cause, 

Who hurl'd your shafts against the hostile front 

Of vandalic Gaul. Manlius, Camilus, Rome, 

Offspring of Gradivus, whose lightnings flash 

Above the Salii on the Capitoline Hill. 

Thou father Brutus ! who didst rend the ties 

And soft constrainings of parental love, 

And for the righteous honor of thy land, 

Didst doom thine erring progeny to death. 

Horatius ! hero of the Bloody Bridge, 

Who swam the Tiber, broke Etruria's van. 

And, fraught with what no heaits but Roman's feel, 

Bore to her gates your sword and dripping shield, 

Amid the applause of thousands. Mutius thou ! 

Who in the presence of Porsenna's host, 

Didst yield thy hand to the consuming flame. 

And purchase freedom with the sacrifice. 

Bear witness all who shake the brazen shield. 

The proud Ancilla of imperial Mars, 

How gladly now I immolate my blood. 

And in this leap devote a patriot's life 

To appease the offended gods. 



THE PASSAGE OF THE RIVER. 



Semel omnibus calcanda est via leti. 

I stood by the shore of a deep rolling stream, 

And through the dark mists that encircled the tide, 

I saw, as it seem'd, in a fanciful dream, 
A land of delight o'er the waters so wide. 

Fair mansions of gold in the sunlight array'd. 
And flowery gardens delighting the gaze ; 

While cherubim throng'd 'neath the canopied shade. 
And tun'd to their cymbals sweet anthems of praise. 



DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 171 

I spake to a jtilgrim that came to the shore, 
AVith scrip at his back and a staff in his hand ; 

" Wilt thou tell me, O Brother, I humbly implore, 
How my spirit may cross to that beautiful land ?" 

" The torrent is dashing," he darkly replied, 
"And far in yon mists a wild ocean doth roar; 

I have brought me some food, for the waters are wide, 
And long it may be ere I stand on yon shore." 

I saw him depart, and he struggled to save 

His goods that were swept on each blast from the shore ; 

Till, with shouts of despair, he was plung'd in the wave. 
And lost 'mid the rage of the hurricane's roar. 

The next that came down to the billowy strand, 

Was a youth, who look'd over the waters with dread, 

A fardel of trinkets he held in his hand. 

And a frail little shallop was pois'd on his head, 

" Ah ! mournful delusion," in pity I cried. 
As I look'd on the lad and lamented his "loss ; 

" He drowns 'neath the shell that if launch'd on the tide 
Would certainly bear him in safety across." 

A miser came next with a packet of gold, 

But breasted the waves with despair in his eye; 

And cried, while the waters encompassing roll'd, 

Through the love of my bright yellow god must I die. 

While I pitying gaz'd, lo ! a pilgrim came down. 
And happy he seem'd as he look'd on the tide ; 

O'er whose dark sweeping billows his shallop was thrown. 
With Hope at the tiller and Faith by his side. 

I saw, and to Heaven in spirit I said, 

" May Love in this hour keep my vessel afloat ! 

And o'er the dark waters, 'mid danger and dread, 
Let Faith be my pilot and Reason my boat." 



172 DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 

THE ILLUSION OF EARTHLY PLEASURES 
ILLUSTRATED. 



A blossom sleeping on its stem 

In purple beauty shone, 
My hand essay'd to seize the gem 

And shook its petals down. 

Alas ! I cried, repining o'er 
The wreck of all its pride, 

How gladly would this heart restore 
What thoughtless haste destroy'd ! 

But so it is with all that's bright 

Or fair beneath the skies ; 
The charm allures our dazzled sight. 

We grasp it and it dies. 

The fairest gift above the grave. 
Of knowledge, wealth, or fame, 

Is pleasing only while we crave, 
Possess'd, 'tis but a name. 

Only the rich delights of grace 

Eternal peace impart, 
A hope, that lightens not the face. 

To mock our longing heart. 

But brighter, fairer, sweeter grows, 

With every lapse of time ; 
And, graced with full perfection glows, 

In Heaven's etherial clime. 



DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 173 

DEATH OF THE OLD YEAR. 

Toll ye the church bell sad and slow, 

And tread softly, and speak low, 

For the Old Year lies a dying ! — Tennyson. 

1 sat in my chamber while sable Night 

Swept over the land in her mystic pall, 
And the fitful glare of the fagot's light, 

Flung ghostly gleams o'er the whiten'd wall. 

On the dusty tomes of a vanish'd age, 

I had ponder'd long with intensive eye; 
Till my heart grew sick o'er the heavy page, 

And I turn'd away with a weary sigh. 

To think on the friends of my boyhood's day, 

Now long in eternity's slumber laid ; 
While bright to my fancy, though far away, 

I saw my sweet home in its sylvan shade. 

And o'er the green fields where my footsteps oft 
With a joyous bound from the schoolroom stole. 

In fancy I sported till sweet and soft, 
Deep slumber encircled my drowsy soul. 

And it flew like a phantom on wings of thought, 

O'er the shadowy land of fantastic dreams ; 
Where the frowning walls of an abbey caught 

The flickering silver of Luna's beams. 

On the sculptur'd rhombs of that lonely pile, 

The light of an opal seem'd to rise ; 
While the shadowy arch of the fretted aisle. 

Re-echoed the dirge of a thousand sighs. 

Within on the steps of a sumptuous throne. 
Where sparkled the treasures of many a clime, 

'Mid the phantom shades of the past alone. 
My spirit bow'd to the monarch Time. 



1^4 DREAMS OF THE SIEsTA. 

Slowly he lifted liis wrinkled hand, 
To the curtain'd shroud of a sable bier. 

And there, enscarf'd in his icy band, 
Lay the silent form of the Olden Year. 

A spirit stood by the coffin's side, 
And mournfully lifted its cypress wandj 

When a tintemar rose like the sullen tide 

When it breaks in storm on the ocean strand. 

'Twas the murmur of voices, suppress'd and low, 
As a numberless multitude surg'd along; 

Some singing with pleasure, and some with woe, 
The measur'd strains of the funeral song. 

Some bearing their fardels of broken toys. 
And others their burdens of grief and care ; 

But more with the tribute of new born joys, 
The last sweet gifts of the dying year. 

Widows and orphans with hearts grown sore 
In treading life's measure of weary miles, 

Young mothers rejoicing, grandfathers hoar, 
And brides of a season bedeck'd with smiles. 

And each one paus'd to upbraid the dead. 

Or to kiss the cold brow with its locks so gray ; 

Entwining a wreath round the sleeping head 
Of sorrowful cypress or myrtle gay. 

And many a youth, in departing, gaz'd 
With sorrowful tears on a fruitless past. 

Or sware by the dead, with his hand uprais'd, 
To redeem the future and rise at last. 

Then I thought of the treasure my soul had found 
'Mid the paigles that blossom on fancy's slope ; 

And 'mid the black garlands of grief, I wound 
The wither'd stem of a broken hope. 



DREAMS OF THE SlESTA. 176 

Then a tocsin sounded its solemn toll, 

And the dead was embark' d on a turgid sea ; 

Whose waters fore'er through lime's portals roll 
To the fathomless depths of eternity. 

While with music melodious, and glad acclaim, 
And laughter that rang o'er the lethal stream, 

Auspiciously crown'd his successor came, 

And I woke with a start from my midnight dream. 

The clock struck one and the year began. 



THE BATTLE OF CASSOVA. 



One of the most notable events in primitive Turkish history is the defeat 
of the Christian coalition army of the Danube, by Amurath, or Mourad I.; who, 
having subjugated the principal provinces and kingdoms of both continents, de- 
sired to consummate the supremacy of the Ottoman power by the subdual of 
those several refactory tribes, or races, of which the Albanians, or Illyrians, were 
chief ; and the death of Amurath in the manner described, through the jealousy 
of Brankowich, and the bravery and fealty of Moslosch, both sons-in-law to Lazarus, 
is partly traditional and partly historical. Vide De Lamartine's Hist. Turkey, Vol. I. 

On the banks of the Danube, the conqueror's car 
Responds to Bulgaria's tymbal of war; 
And Amurath rides 'mid his valiant viziers, 
'Mid the flashing effulgence of Ottoman spears. 

With banners unfolded at dawning of day, 

Five nations united in battle array, 

Come forth to their larum, undaunted and brave, 

From the brow of the Balkans to banks of the Drave. 



Albania is there with the chief of her clan, 
Brave Scanderbeg's sire to marshal the van. 
And Bosnia's Twarko the flower of his race, 
With the flickering glint of the steel on his face. 



176 DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 

Epirus and Servia have sharpen'd their steel, 
And Hungary waits her resentment to deal, 
With lances all bright; to be dimm'd in the fray, 
On the brow of the slope where the villagers pray. 

'Tis the strength of faith, while defiant and far. 
The Cross flings its fold o'er the Crescent of war ; 
To be drench'd ere the eve with the blood of the slain, 
Pour'd out by the Sultan on Cassova's plain. 

Dark Evrenos sits on his motionless steed, 

Where the Azabs of Othman encamp'd in the mead, 

Await the fierce signal with ataghan and bow, 

To roll their dark wave on the ranks of the foe. 

And Bajazet, born of the brave Amurath, 
The Giaour may tremble who crosses his path, 
And the Spakis of Broussa, whose sires ne'er saw 
The peer of their chieftain, young Ali Pashaw. 

The war cry trembles on the air, 

Mourad advances to the fight. 
Amid the glint and dazzling glare 

Of sabres glancing in the morning light. 

"Allah Kerim!" hark they cry, 
Yacoub and Mourad's lines are lost. 

In blaze of battle as they fly 
Athwart the Christians' serried host. 

See Bajazet, to save his sire. 

Bide thundering o'er the slain, 
While frenzied with their master's fire. 

The Azabs spurn the jDlain. 

Their sabres fall with deadly force, 
" God and the Prophet " is their cry ; 

Till, routed in their furious course. 
The allies break and fly. 



DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 177 

The day is lost ; the Christian host 

Dispersed far and wide ; 
Stern Cassova's defenseless coast 

With mingled slaughter dy'd. 

The victor's flag triumphant waves, 

None but the few are spar'd, 
Who, shelter'd in their mountain caves, 

The fiends of battle beard, 

Stern Lazarus, the Servian Krai, 
• His nation's rout surveys. 
He hears the widow's lonely wail, 
The victor's shout of praise. 

Wiikaschawa, with streaming eyes. 

Bedews the reeking sod, 
And Mara's bitter voice replies, 

O'er Freedom's field of blood. 

Oh ! where is Moslosch ? Who so brave 

To deal the manly blow, 
Heaven bless the soul whose arm shall save 

My Moslosch from the foe ! 

Lo ! from the fiery ranks of war, 

Behold the hero led ; 
While Brankowich, 'mid the bugle's blare, 

To royal Lazarus said — 

" Behold the brazen traitor stand ! 

O'er whom the curse of thousands reigns. 
Who sold Iliyria's sunny land, 

For all the blood that dyes her plains !" 

King Lazarus to his minion said — 

" Thy words our chieftain's truth assail. 
Thou* knowest our vassal Moslosch wed 

The fairest daughter of his kral. 



178 DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 

Thou knowest his blade did ne'er refuse 
To make the boldest foeman reel, 

E'en now he bleeds from many a bruise 
Inflicted by the Moslem steel. 

The test of truth we here ordain, 
To prove our chieftain's loyal wealth, 

Each faithful heart here present drain 
This crimson draught to Lazarus' health !" 

"I take the pledge" the Prince replies, 
" My heart hath none to serve but thee, 

And 'ere the morrow's sun doth rise, 
Shall prove its firm fidelity." 

He drains the cup— he mounts his steed, 
The fire of passion in his eye ; 

Nor checks his courser's foaming speed 
Till Mourad' watchfires twinkle nigh. 

He swam the stream, his course was bent 
From brave Illyria's faithful band ; 

Nor stop'd till at the Sultan's tent 

He heard the solak's hoarse command. 

" Halt, there ! and make thy mission known ! 

Why comest thou thus in Christian garb ? 
And who so brave that darest alone 

Ride thro' our ranks on fiery barb?" 

"A renegade from his country's claim, 
From Servia's rude ignoble crew ; 

One who has heard great Mourad's fame. 
And longs to pay him homage due." 

The Sultan from his pallet heard 
The greeting that the stranger gave, 

And straightway bade his trusty guard 
Brins: in with haste the loval slave. 



DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 179 

As if to kiss the royal shoe, 

The haughty Christian stoop'd his crest; 
When, like a flash, his dagger flew 

And dy'd its blade in Mourad's breast. 

"This be the fate of every foe 

That treads our shore !" the Servian cries, 
" Now shall my royal master know, 

No traitor's heart in Mosoloch lies." 

He draws his glaive, he spurs his steed. 

Full swiftly through the vengeful throng ; 
Eight warriors neath his sabre bleed — 

The Servian's arm is strong. 

He breasts the river's swoolen flood, 

But falters wounded on its shore ; 
The limpid stream is dy'd with blood, 

Brave Moslosch falls to rise no more. 

On lone Cassova's rugged plain 

Two mouldering monuments arise, 
To mark where Mourad suffered pain, 

And tell where his assassin lies. 



MEDITATIONS ON CHRISTMAS EVE. 



'Tis midnight ; o'er yon western land 

Pale Dian lights her hazy ring ; 
While, one by one, the starry band 
Leap forth with scintillations grand. 
As that which o'er the Syrian strand 

Proclaim'd the birth of Judah's King. 

While gazing down the dreamy past, 

Kemembrance seeks a dearer clime ; 
And, like the flickering shadows cast 



180 DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 

When clouds scud on before the blast, 

Sweeps by the merry scene, where last 

I listen'd to the Christmas chime. 

The changing seasons fast nnfold 

Deep thoughts to feed the growing mind ; 
But though the heart beat fast or cold. 
With friendship, hate, or greed of gold, 
Its fiercest passions are controll'd 

By love, when memory points behind. 

Bright home on yonder river's brink ! 

Still in thy light my fancies rove ; 
While from affliction's fount I drink, 
The draft but nerves my soul to think, 
And welds a bar to every link 

That binds me to the land I love. 

While deeper shades than night's depend, 
And day's long hour of toil is done ; 
Tho' banish'd far, 'twill comfort lend 
To know a mother's heart will bend. 
And to the Throne of Mercy send 

A prayer to soothe her absent son. 

Arachne* on her silken line 

Safe hangs, though tempests howl abroad 
And thus, when earthly cares combine, 
And hope's bright orb forgets to shine. 
May my poor soul, with faith divine, 

Still hang her high desires on God. 

Then dawn apace, thou merry morn ! 

Once more that star arises sweet. 
And many a pilgrim weak and worn^ 
' In tatter'd garments soil'd and torn. 

Attends its ray till Christ be born, 

To pour sweet incense at His feet. 

♦Arachne- -The Spider. 



DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 181 

HYMN OF RELIANCE ON PROVIDENCE. 



Renounce all strength but strength divine, 

And peace shall be forever thine.— Madame Guion. Trans. Cowper. 

What is man's strength, O Lord ! wherein to trust 
When night and darkness o'er the landscape lower ? 

The conqueror's glory is a crown of dust, 
And he himself, the creature of an hour. 

But thou Jehovah ! art a constant stay, 
Thy boundless soul the universe doth fill ; 

Thou dost preserve, and thine it is to slay, 
To save, or smite, as suits thy sovereign will. 

Yea Lord ! though armies of destroyers come, 

Safe in thy promises my soul shall hide ; 
Whose priceless passport to that heavenly home 

Is seal'd with blood of Him the Crucified. 

When storms of sorrow and distress assail, 

Far, far beyond thy smiling face I see ; 
And when the flesh and her defenses fail. 

Father of Mercy ! do I fly to Thee. 

Guide then, I pray, my wandering footsteps, Lord ! 

And bless the soul whom earth disdains to own, 
That when temptations press my spirit hard, 

I still may find a refuge 'neath Thy Throne. 



182 DREAMS OF THE SIESTA, 

A PRAYER. 



Mark vii., 34. 

Hearts of the stern and stubborn mould, 
Whom hallow'd mercy cannot thrall ; 
Benighted minds, austere and cold, 
Awake ! and claim the gracious call. 
'Tis sovereign Love admission seeks, 
'Tis Christ, our royal Master, speaks, — 
" Ephphatha." 

Shall sleeping eyes refuse to see? 

Or seeing, scorn the proffer' d j)rize ? 
No, let us from destruction flee, 

While in our reach deliverance lies. 
Attend the invocation sweet. 
Of our High Priest and Paraclete, — 
" Ephphatha." 

Great Shepherd of the heavenly fold ! 

AVhose wisdom worketh all things well, 
Let not, as oft in days of old. 
The children of thy love rebel ! 
Till earthly toil and anguish cease. 
And Heaven's eternal fount of peace, — 
" Ephphatha." 

Sweet Prophet ! whose commanding word 

Where Galilee's waters rolFd along. 
To publish forth thy power, restor'd. 

And loos'd the fetter'd suppliants' tongue. 
Assist our faltering speech, we pray, 
Come to our simple hearts and say, — 
" Ephphatha," 



DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 183 

THE MYSTERIES OF THE SOUL. 



The heart knoweth his own bitterness, and a stranger doth not meddle with 
his joy. — Proverbs, xiv., 10. 

The eye 'mid busiest scenes may dwell on man in all his moods, 
But can it pierce the shrouded cell, where bitterest sorrow broods ? 
And who can tell that hears the sigh, what sickness gives it birth ? 
Or when a smile delights the eye, if fed by fluent mirth? 

The heart its own affliction knows, though all the Avorld be gay ; 
It cannot sliare another's woes, nor give one pang away. 
'Tis true that friendship's faithful heart, to kindred love responds, 
But oh ! the spirit dwells apart, though flesh may feel the bonds. 

And yet 'tis passing strange, that whom one common birth endears, 
Should tread like hermits to the tomb, this darken'd vale of tears ; 
But life is to its fountain join'd, nor spreads its stream abroad, 
And dust to kindred dust resign d, sends back its spark to God. 

Let fierce esthetic tempests break in fury o'er my path, 

Nor grief, nor fear my soul shall shake, while Heaven withholds his 

wrath ; 
And if a ray of sunshine roll, ray spirit's joy he sees, 
Whose love hath lit my gloomy soul in dark adversities,* 

There keep, O Lord ! the curtain drawn, which o'er the ark of gold 
Conceal'd the bright mysterious One from Judah's child of old :f 
And grant in mercy that my soul, from earthly sorrows riven. 
May break at last from sin s control, and wing her flight to Heaven. 



* Thou hast known my soul in adversities. — Ps. xxxi., 7. 

+ And the veil shall divide unto you between the holy and the most holy. — 
Ex. xxvi., B3. 



184 DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 

OINA MORUL. 



It was the maid of Fuarfed wild, 

She rais'd the nightly song. — McPhersox's Ossian. 

She woke the strains of other days, 

And touch'd each trembling string the while ; 
Where warlike lovers stoop"d to praise, 

The daughter of the streamy isle. 

She sang, and o'er my lonely soul 
There swept a flood of softer light, 

As when the beams of morning roll 
Their billows o"er the skirts of night. 

Sweet cherub of the wakening heart. 
Immortal Love ! Oh ! canst thou wed 

And soothe with thy celestial art 
The soul, whence every joy is fled ? 

How deep the dregs of bitter care 

Lie drown'd beneath thy chrystal stream, 

What bliss thine inspirations bear, 

What passing peace, what joy supreme. 

'Tis thou, mysterious pulse of life. 
That bid St the wandering spirit stay ; 

Or wing its flight from scenes of strife, 
To deeper love and brighter day. 

Fond spark, from whither dost thou rove ? 

Whence is thy flame eternal fed ? 
That double force which bids us love 

The lost, the living, and the dead ? 

Thou scarce canst draw thy life from earth, 

Since faithful love can never die ; 
But, sprung from a celestial birth. 

Descended from a softer sky. 
Who shall compute thy matchless worth? 

Who lose thy smile without a sigh? 



DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 185 

ISABELL. 



Lovely as the spangled lily 

Blushing o'er some shady stream, 
Blythesome as the daffodilly, 

Sporting in the summer beam. 
Fount of every fond emotion, 

Shrin'd in Love's sweet witchery ; 
Pure as pearls of briny ocean. 

Is my Isabell to me. 

Eyes as bright as stars of even 
Shining o'er the dusky plain, 
Smiles as sweet as beams of Heaven, 
Dawning on the night of pain. 
Soft as slumber to the weary. 

Bright as dreams of seraphs be ; 
Sweet as springs in deserts dreary. 
Is my Isabel to me. 

Innocence with beauty blending. 

Tones to make the heart beat faster ; 
Raven locks like night descending. 
O'er a breast of alabaster. 

Fairer than the smiles of morning 
When the fainting shadows flee, 
Richest gem for earth's adorning, 
Is my Isabell to me. 



13 



186 DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 

THE MAID OF INIS-THONA. 



Grey Anir wept in liis father's hall, as the landscape weeps when 

the leaflets fall, 
As mourns the sea, when the sounding waves, roll on in storm to 

their secret caves. 
His spirit is mournful, and Runa's dells resound no more to the 

feast of shells. 
And the stately hind, and the hazel deer, bound free and unscath'd 

from the hunter's spear. 

As the pestilent vapors from Lano roll, so sorrow sits dark on the 

Chieftain's soul ; 
For Argon and Ruro, the brave and the best, are hush'd in the 

bands of their dreamless rest. 
Like Fingal the dauntless, from Lano's meres, Cormalo departs to 

the strife of spears ; 
As strong and as bright as the morning beam, on Inis-Thona's 

bespangled stream. 

And the Princess of Ruro, the darkly fair, in her flowing ringlets 

of raven hair. 
And the peerless beauty of sparkling eyes, the king proclaims as the 

tourney's prize. 
Cormalo did battle with Runa's sons, and shiver'd the sjDcars of 

their bravest ones. 
Till Argon and Ruro forsook the chase, and returned to blush at 

their isle's disgrace. 

With a scornful smile in the lists of blood, Cormalo of Lano 

undaunted stood ; 
And a thousand shouts like the thunder peal'd, when Argon grasped 

his father's shield. 
With a swelling bosom the maiden hears the ringing clash of the 

chieftains' spears ; 
And the spirits of Runa beat fast and warm, when their fury burst 

like the mountain storm. 



DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 187 

Like the oak that droops till the blast sweeps by, Cormalo is fallen, 

but not to die ; 
For the conqueror swells with the soul of pride, and the point of 

his weapon is turn'd aside. 
And now, to the splendor of Anir's feast, the heroes are. gone, and 

the strife is ceas'd ; 
And a thousand bards, with their songs proclaim, the glory and 

honor of Argon's name. 

On the mountains of Runa, the twanging bow resounds, and the 

pride of the hills lies low ; 
But no passion save vengeance Cormalo knew, and the shaft of his 

hatred in secret flew. 
It flew like the lightning, and Argon's crest was dy'd with the 

stream of his manly breast, 
And Euro fell in the bounding chase, by the covert bolf of a craven 



And the maid of the isle, ere the break of morn, from the home of 

her fathers was rudely torn, 
And pines alone on a stranger's shore, to the sorrowful sound of 

the ocean's roar. 
And now doth gray Anir in anguish mourn, for the joy of his soul 

that shall ne'er return ; 
For the daughter who dwells in a distant land, and the sons that 

are sleei)ing on Kuna's strand. 



DEATH. 



A VISION. 



The curtain is rending, 
Life's comedy ending — 
Darkness is rushing 

With memory away, 
Before the deep flushing 

Of Heavenly day. 



188 DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 

How strange is this feeling, 
Insensibly stealing 
Its fantasies over my 

Faltering form ! 
Father, oh ! cover thy 

Child from the storm ! 

Bright Fpirits are pleading. 
While earth is receding, 
And dark shadows flying 

Encircle the Avhole, 
Lord, I am dying ! 

Oh ! dawn on my soul ! 



POESY. 



Say, has he given in vain the heavenly Muse ? — Gray — Progress of Poesy. 

In the lone watches of the night, when Sleep 

Steals from her shrouded chamber velvet shod. 

And airily invisible, to enfold 

"With soft lethean witcher}^ the forms 

Of Fancy's young creation, I beheld, 

As 'twere in dim idealism drawn, 

All phases of the universe. Ephemeral light 

Had faded wan behind the circling hills 

That span the West, and snatch the saf'ron rays 

From Winter's waning orb. The air was dark, 

And not with transient night, but long and dense, 

And unreserved to nature, for its shade 

Did hover vaguely o'er the brooding minds ^ 

And visions of all men. Confusion reign'd, 

And War, and Anarchy, earth's triune scourge ; 

And Slaughter sated her unhallow'd thirst 

With life's warm current. Lewdness unrestrain'd, 

Did philter love to gross impurity. 

And vilest prostitution. Man presum'd 



DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 189 

To carve rude images from rocks and trees, 

And mould them to the symmetry of man ; 

Till, rapt with admiration of his art, 

He adored the speechless forms, and call'd them gods. 

Foul Passion rul'd, and Reason thrust aside 

In rayless lethargy had ftillen to sleep. 

And Terror triumph'd o'er the universe. . 

But while I gazed, lo ! the leaden vault 

Deep thundering split, and from the bright abysm, 

'Mid fluent strains of star-born melody, 

And gleams of Heaven's own lustre. Prone as flight 

Of lambent meteor darting down the sky, 

I saw a seraph's advent. It did chafe 

The drowsing lids of Reason, and she woke. 

And speaking softly to the souls of men. 

Subdued their brutal passions. Earth reviv'd, 

And smiling blest the meliorative plan. 

Grim Superstition fled, and Error cower'd 

To suck the venom from her blunted fangs. 

Hope walk'd with Mercy, and the heavens smil'd 

O'er the great spirit's victory. Truth came down. 

In sunbright garb, and crown'd with asphodel, 

And nam'd the heavenly cherub— Poesy. 



ODE 

TO THE SPIRITS OF PASSION. 



Tell me Sorrow, why and when, 
Comest thou from thy dreary den 
To afflict the souls of men ? 

Sorrow tell me this now I 

Witching syren wild and gay, 
Speeding life's swift hours away ; 
Joy ! oh doth thy spirit stay 

Courting Love's fond kiss now ? 



190 DREAMS OF THE SlESTA. 

Blessed wanderer of the sky, 
Balm of anguish ever nigh, 
Friendship ! can the world untie 

Hearts from thy control now? 

Tell me, Love ! thou heaven-born sprite, 
Brightest star of darkest night. 
Do thy wings of softest light 

Hover o'er my soul now ? 



MADNESS. 



Though this be madness yet there's method in it. — Hamlet. 

Why do you call me mad ? Because this eye 

Burns with such fire in its sublimer depths 

That cowards tremble ? Nay, inspect it close ! 

'Tis bright and bloodshot, but from viewing things 

To ye invisible ; end this vibrating pulse 

Can scarce respond to the swift retinue 

Of thoughts that fire my brain. Behold yon clouds ! 

Discern ye aught but sunshine there, the soft 

And clear intangibility of light 

From orb to orb ? Poor myope 1 I can see 

Ten thousand lambent fantasies, with whom 

My spirit intercourses. What care I 

For man and his intelligence ! I'd tear 

Him limb from limb had madness but the nerve 

To rend the universe. Bah ! let him live. 

And woo his scornful fancies ; but no more 

Rouse the hot blood that burns in every vein 

And fires my throbbing temples, with a leer, 

Or glance of wonted scorning. I can feel 

The warm pulsations of an unseen power 

Enshrin'd within. 'Tis Eeason fires me still. 

And reason is the royalty of God ; 

Hell cannot scath its glory, nor obscure 



DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 191 

The bright refulgence of that mystic flame, 
Which burns forever upward, as the soul 
in her sublime aspirings ; never quench'd, 
Save from her native fountain. Hear we man ! 
I am not man, only unlike the world. 



TO A STAR FALLING. 



Spark of evanescent grace, 

Whither dost thou fly? 
Speeding thy reckless race 

Down the steep sky. 
Swift in unfetter'd flight, 
Spanning the arch of night, 
Or with long stream of light 
Dazzling the eye. 

Thus through the rift of time 

Life rolleth on ; 
So fades our mortal prime, 

So youth is gone. 
Fleet as the winged blast 
Flit earthly pleasures past. 
Merging in death at last. 

Life scarce begun. 

So from the realms above 

Bending her flight. 
Sweeps the soft star of Love 

O'er the soul's night. 
Shedding a broken gleam 
From her departing beam, 
Bright as the spirit's dream, 

Brief as 'tis bright. 



192 DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 

A SIMILE. 



I saw a campanula bending 
In Ida's floral bower ; 

The leaves were sighing, 
The sunbeams flying, 
And for one rain drop was it dying ; 
Till the watery freighted clouds descending, 
Refresh' d it with a shower. 

I saw a soul in its darkness standing 
Where sorrow's shafts were driven ; 
Complainingly weeping 
The watch of its keeping, 
While night o'er the landscape was stealthily creeping. 
Till the spirit of love that young soul expanding, 
Came down like the dews of heaven. 



NEVERMORE. 



A DIRGE. 

O life ! O love ! O hope ! 

Upon whose broken battlements I stand, 

To catch the last faint outlines of that shore 

Outstretching now behind me, and to cope 

This nameless monster with a palsied hand, 

Whom once I feared, with strength I shall command 

No more — oh ! nevermore. 

What have I learn'd, O Time ! 
From all thy precepts written upon earth ? 
That pride of soul but journeyeth before 
A dark destruction ; and that sorrows climb 
In swift succession o'er the shrine of mirth. 
Stifling the hopes that shall renew their birth 
No more — oh ! nevermore. 



DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 193 

But I have learn* d that man 

Is not to these earth fantasies confin'd, 

Him his Creator's mercy will restore ; 

For my dim vision hath been taught to scan 

A nobler future, when the halcyon mind 

Shall to its masque of mourning be resign'd 

No more — oh ! nevermore. 



THE HAUNTING SHADOW. 



Eldest of things, divine equality. — Shelley — Revolt of Islam. 

In a sea girt isle where the sunbeams smile, 

And fragrance swells on the dewy air ; 
Where the flowerets spring 'neath the folded wing 

Of the zephyrs that hover in slumber there. 
Where the chrystal stream, with its silvery gleam, 

And musical virelay skips along ; 
Where nestled from sight in her bower of night, 

Sweet Philomel warbles her choicest song. 

Where the hand of Time, in that balmy clime. 

Hath cinctur'd age with the bloom of youth ; 
Where the ocean's gong was my cradle song, 

I sprang from a lineage of love and truth. 
And they taught my heart to perform its part. 

And stand like a hero in virtue's strife ; 
To scatter seeds of magnanimous deeds 

For a harvest of love, in the reaping of life. 

And they taught me that man, since the world began, 

Were the common children of one high birth, 
That all were free, and should bend the knee 

To no gilded pomp of a pamper'd earth. 
And that soil was blest, with God's bounty drest, 

For the charms of Heaven seem'd in mortal's reach ; 
One bread was our food ; we boasted one blood ; 

^nd each was no better nor worse than each. 



194 DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 

But in misery's morn, a spirit was born 

From which liberty, justice and love did flee ; 
And a thousand woes at its birth arose, 

The imps of this damn'd Inequality. 
The Almighty's frown, like a curse came down, 

And Authority wedded a slave for his bride; 
Tears, sweat and toil, were the pleasant spoil 

Of that Pan-like child devourer. Pride. 

Then I fled for rest to the far born West, 

To the favor'd land of the bold and free. 
And a brother's hand is the strongest band, 

That has bound me, America, since to thee. 
In whose clasp of peace I have found release 

From the servant's groan, and the master's scorn ; 
But wake from your sleep, for across the deep, 

A dark moving cloud to your land is borne. 

And a deep voice comes to our happy homes. 

From this shadow that rides on the dark blue sea : 
"Proud Freedom I've hurl'd from the throne of the world, 

And I come, fair Columbia, to conquer thee !" 
Now in liberty's name, and for slavery's shame, 

Americans, let not the monster land ; 
Your flag of the bold, with her stars unfold, 

And spurn him back to his native strand ! 



EPITAPH 

FOR THE TOMB OF GEORGE GRICE, ESQ. 



Widow and orphan here may weep 
O'er a dead father's dreamless sleep ; 
But mourn in hope, while Christ on high, 
Calls home each spirit to the sky. 
Where, through one long eternity 
With him, our ransom'd souls shall sing 
In Heaven, " O Death ! where is thy sting ? 
O Grave where is thy victory?" 



DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 195 

A SOLILOQUY. 



Be still, sad heart ! 
Put on thy mask amid the crowded street, 
And let thy smile, felicitous and sweet, 
Shed its bright sunshine over all we meet ; 

Let man not hear thee sigh. 

Be still, sad heart ! 
Enough to listen in thy chamber lone, 
While midnight echoes lift thy plaintive moan, 
And bitter tears upon thy pillow strown, 

Darken my sleepless eye. 

Hush ! hush, poor heart ! 
All night with thorny sorrow art thou torn ; 
Thy anxious spirit, like a sick.nurse worn 
With weary watching for the slow pac'd morn, 

To mock thy withering grief. 

Smile, bitter heart ! 
Oh ! why forever doth thy sorrow swell ? 
Canst thou not bid the dark brow'd demon dwell. 
If but one hour, within his silent cell ? 

'T would bring my soul relief. 



THE QUESTION ECUMENICAL. 



They continually say unto me, Where is thy God. — Psalm xlii., 3. 

From yon celestial empire of the sun. 

Four hundred million famish'd spirits call — 

"Christian! Where is thy God?" 

Shall we not run 

As Heaven's swift messenger to Jezreel's royal wall, 

By Ahab's flying chariot, and proclaim 

His kingly presence. Teach the waking soul 



196 DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 

From Nature's mighty volume to unroll 
The perfect evidence, that from pole to pole 
Is writ our sovereign Ebenezer's name. 

From Indian shores, from toi*rid Hindostan, 

And where the Irawaddy rolls along ; 

From Borneo's Sarawak, and Burmese Chittagong, 

The unanswer'd shout is borne from man to man. 

O'er Southern seas, from pestilent Rokelle, 

And the dread Lion's Mount, 

Lone Madagascar, and Mauritius dell, 

Where many a Frank and warlike Briton fell. 

Whose triumph opened not to them the fount 

Of spiritual freedom, Britons love so well. 

And hark ! from Bahr-el-Abiad's ancient stream 

What waking spirit speaks ? 
The iconolater starting from his dream, 

'Yond Kiliimanjaro's peaks. 

"Tell me, thou ministering guest, 

V/ho o'er the waters broad, 

Comest from the boundless regions of the West, 

Bearing to every breast 

Tidings of peace and rest, — Where is thy God ? 

Tell to the black brow'd Hottentot, who sleeps 

In fen built hovel, where the koba leaps, 

And the rude CafTre in his dusky kraal. 

Where white foot ne'er hath trod ; 
The cry comes up from far Angola's vale, 

Swelling the Sabian gale — Where is thy god? 



THE QUESTION ANSWERED. 



Where ? ask the fervent breezes of thy clime ! 
Stream, vale, and mountain, all thou dost inherit 
Of life and beauty, in primeval time 
Made the pure shrine of His immortal spirit. 



DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 197 

And yon bright arch, which like a molten shield, 
Sheds back the swift-wing'd arroAvs of the sun ; 
Shows, plainly pictur'd on its ethery field, 
That God of strength whilom reveal'd 
To Judah's prophet son ? 

Where ? ask yon sea, whose sounding waves 
Wash golden tribute from antartic strands ; 
What time on fertile Zanguebar, she laves 
The feet of mighty Behemoth, who stands 
With smoking nostril, and strong scaly bands. 
Like the stern monarch of the western lands, 
Pressing thy golden sands. 

The sea doth emblem His immensity; 

The mountain's cloud-topp'd eminence His throne ;■ 

The moon revolving through her starry zone. 

With myriad constellated spherules strown, 

Like silver dust, the chariot wheels between 

Of some magnificent Oriental queen. 

Attests her great Creator's majesty. 

While in his temple of security, 

The sun, proud symbol of eternity, 

To the far children of Faturity 

Shall make His glory known. 

"Consider" thou "the lilies of the field!" 

Show they no proof of workmanship divine? 

Where is the artist unaneled. 

Whose pencil hath the skill to streak 

With such soft tints, the violet's cheek. 

Or crijnson so the leafy columbine? 

Here is the perfect skill display'd 

Of Him, whose taste hath so array'd 

The tenants of the field. 

His voice descends the darken' d spheres. 

Sublime and grand, to mortal ears 

Jn tempest WTath reveal'd; 
By whose loud trumpet through the rolling years, 

His thundering praise is peal'd. 



198 DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 

Or seekest thou the throne, the stately habitation 

Of Him who sitteth 'tween the cherubim ? Darest thou presume 

To approach our Urim in His Holy Hill ? To rape the womb 

Of dim Futurity ? Haply thy death's doom 

May speak God's first and latest visitation. 

No, mercy is His, and thine humility ; 

Nor deem, to one so worthy detestation, 

That He'll descend on wing'd sublimity, 

Eending the bright Shekina's clear invisibility. 

As once on Sinia's brow. 

Twice twenty days and nights, 

The holy halo blaz'd 

O'er Judah's wondering heights ; 

Whose murmuring children gaz'd 

Confounded and amaz'd. 

Till the thick cloud was rais'd, 

And Moses veil'd his face to hide its heavenly glow. 

And thou thyself art God. The very subtlest force 

Of thy fair being, his eternal breath ; 

The soul transfused, o'er which the monarch Death 

Exerts no empire. All created things. 

Or thron'd in Heaven, or tenanted beneath. 

Endure decay. The uncreated clings 

To its eternal centre, as the light returning to its source. 

Then ask not, Where is God? His Spirit dwells 

In every aisle of Nature's mystic fane ; 

The horned herd, and yonder winged train 

Who skim with rapid curve the airy plain. 

Or on the spray when morn's first fragrance swells. 

Sipping the dew-drops from her glistening cells, 

Proclaim his love. The laughing brooklet tells, 

The flower, the leaf, the spangled blade, 

The blossom's prink, the lily's braid. 

That by his wisdom were they made. 

On all, we see most palpably defin'd 

The mighty impress of a master mind ; ' 

And man, whose well wrought tenement of clay, 

Is found in sin and lost amid decay. 



DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 199 

Doth living, wear 

A symmetry of beauty that befits the shrine 

And temple of a spirit, which did rear 

The subtile structure on a godlike plan, 

That He might constitute its guest divine. 

Thus, man is made God, as God was once made man. 

" God is a Spirit." Thou canst not behold 

What " fills at once the realms of space." 

That thing of eyes, which but the mind can trace 

Through rapid mazes to its distant fold. 

But watch, and pray. 

Till time dissolving, waste this mortal clod. 

When in the ray, 

Of heaven's unsetting sun, and deathless day, 

Thou mayest behold our God. 



SONG of ASAPH, THE SEER. 



Wake from thy slumber, O monarch of mourning ! 

Sad Allon-bachuth !* deserted and lone ; 
Sing to the musical soul of the morning — 

Israel's night of afiiiction is flown. 

Peer of the mountain and pride of the valley, 
Pearl'd with the dew of Samaria's plain ; 

'Neath thy green bowers the maiden shall dally, 
Clasp'd by her lover releas'd from his chain. 

By the borders of Arpad, enslav'd of the stranger, 

The children of promise look'd back with a sigh, 
In the gathering darkness of sorrow and danger, 
When Etham's bright pillar ascended on high. 

*Allon-bachuth — Oak of Weeping. 



200 DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 

They wept over Zion, despis'd and forsaken, 
The shrine of the Spirit in mercy or wrath ; 

By the glory of godless Sepharvaim taken, 
The faithless of Ivah, the sons of Hamath. 

Dreaming alone by the waters of Habor, 

In thought to his home the lone captive's heart stole 
Till memory lighten'd the load of his labor, 
And darkness no longer o'ershadow'd his soul. 

He saw the red pillar on Etham ascending — 
The cloud light of morn over Hazaroth spread — 

The sword of the Spirit all deathful descending 
On Taberah, heap'd with the dust of the dead. 

Like the tempest of heaven when loos'd on the ocean, 
God's vengeance the tyrant of liberty smite ; 

Save where in the ransom'd pavillions of Goshen, 
The remnant of Judah lay folded in light. 

And he pray'd to Jehovah, whose merciful dealing 
His fathers' remembered in sorrowful days, 

When round the lone Ark in the wilderness kneeling, 
They laid on their altars the perfume of praise. 

Then wake from thy sorrow, O monarch of mourning ! 

Sad Allon-bachuth ! deserted and lone ; 
Sing to the musical soul of the morning — 

Israel's night of affliction is flown. 



THE VOYAGE. 



Over the silvery stream of youth, 
The bark of our love goes sailing ; 

With the glittering pennon of hope and truth 
From the topmast proudly trailing. 



DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. ^01 

i. 

On and on, while the flowery shore 

In the cloudlight fadeth ever ; 
Till its blossoming borders are seen no more 

Thro' the mists of Death's cold river. 

The wind-rent bubbles of grief and joy, 

O'er the waters are backward drifting, 
And we see no longer the floating toy 

Of Hope, in the sunbeam shifting. 

'Neath the tempests of sorrow, that brood above 

The waves, we are swiltly hurried. 
Where the withering blossoms of blighted love 

'Neath the blue cold waters are buried. 

And thou ! who hast poison'd the fount of mirth. 

In this heart must be unknown; 
When the soul in her darkness goes drifting forth 

On Eternity's ocean alone. 



SWEET WAS THY VOICE BY THE FALL OF THE 
WATERS. 



Sweet was thy voice by the fall of the waters. 
Queen of the morning and star of the night ; 

Fairest and best of Columbia's daughters, 
Blooming alone in thy bower of delight. 

Beautiful maid ! in my heart have I set thee ; 

Dress'd in thy smiles to support and adorn ; 
Fair as thou wast when in boyhood I met thee, 

Bathing thy locks in the sunshine of morn. 

14 



202 DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 

Oft in the dark rolling tempest of sorrow, 

Thou art the day star that glimmers on high ; 

Oft in the slumbers of midnight, I borrow 

Dreams of delight from the glance of thine eye. 

Where, gentle maiden, oh ! where shall I find thee ? 

Thou whose remembrance still hovers around ; 
When in a ravish'd embrace shall I bind thee 

Fast to the heart where thine image is bound? 



SONG FOR NEW YEAR'S EVE. 



Lazily waiteth to welcome the year 

The minion of wealth in the gas light's glow; 

Waiteth to welcome the glad New Year, 

Till the stars through the rifts of the clouds appear, 

And the moon from her zenith shines cold and clear, 

On the fleeces of silver snow. 

Cold and bright as the Arctic beam. 

On Zembla's frozen shore ; 

And she mingles her stream, with the fagot's gleam, 

As it dances across the floor; 

And flings through the darkness a mellow beam 

On the bands of the oaken door. 

And the north wind laughs on his whistling wings. 

As over the earth he flies ; 

And the trunk of the linden creaks and swings 

By the casement without, where the icicle clings, 

And points with its spire to the dismal street; 

Where the tones of a beggar, low, sad and sweet, 

On the stillness of night arise. 

And thus with a trembling tongue she sings 

Her song to the listening skies. 



DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 203 

" Poor, sighing Old Year ! dying Old Year ! 
Where are the friends that shall watch at thy bier? 
Dead are the flowers, and few are the hours. 
To thee that remain in this life, Old Year. 

" The wandering waif of the street, Old Year ! 

Is first in her sorrow, O sweet Old Year ! 

^or thou hast been good when the world has been rude 

To the fatherless daughter of want, Old Year. 

" When the brows of the haughty have frown'd. Old Year ! 
Thy hand with contentment has crown' d, Old Year! 
And though false for a while, thy comforting smile 
Has given the promise of hope, Old Year. 

" O, sightly New Year ! gay, sprightly New Year ! . 
Come to my heart with thy lessons of cheer ! 
And come like the old, with garments nor gold, 
But bring me the forms that I love, New Year! 

"Bring me a brotherly smile, New Y'ear ! 

Bring me a mother, to memory dear ! 

And come to this breast, with the sweetness of rest, 

Though it be on a pallet of straw, New Year. 

" Make me a wanderer wide, New Year ! 
Rather than Luxury's bride, New Year ! 
For a breast of love, in a cloak ill wove, 
Is better then riches and pride. New Year. 



204 DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 



ALL THE WORLD 'S A STAGE 

And all the men and women merely players : 
They have their exits and their entrances ; 
And one man in his time plays many parts. 
His acts being Seven Ages. 

—As Vou Like It— Act II., Scene VII. 



FIRST AGE. 

In thoughtless babyhood, from chair to chair, 

Like a huge crab, or mammoth tadpole creeping ; 
He tunes betimes his shrill falsetto air. 

Till night, and nurse's spanking, send him sleeping. 
When torturing peristaltic pangs assail, 

Ungodly turpentine invades his throttle ; 
In gastrodynia deem'd of much avail. 

Administered with a bottle. 
And oh ! in toothbirth what tormenting pains — 

His tongue is parch'd, his infant spirits droop ; 
Alas ! that no carminative remains 

For colic, hiccough, strophalus, or croup. 



SECOND AGE. 

With breeches shorten' d by successive rolls, 

He nimbly navigates some neighboring pool 
With kite or toy boat, till the belfry tolls 

Its warning summons to the tasks of school. 
With elbows squar'd to autograph his name, 

His anxious eye directs the wriggling lines ; 
Save when, to give some missile faithful aim, 

His inky hand the hateful task resigns. 
Proud of the pothooks that adorn his slate, 

Next to his thumb black'd primer see him bend 
Ogling askance some gay, mischievous mate 

Or grinning broad his trickery to commend. 



DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 205 

THIRD AGE. 

With Grammar, Virgil, Algebra and Globe, 

On mathematics, language, and the flight 
Of stars, he dwells ; till every cerebral lobe 

Burns with the wisdom of a Stagrite. 
The season of inquiry, when the seals 

Of science 'gin to crack, is none the less 
Th*e summer of soft passions, when he feels 

" The might, the majesty of loveliness." 
But as the Epistle of our Prophet says 

That different glories come from different stars ; 
We dare presume, a maiden's love lit rays 

May differ somewhat from the rings of Mars. 
With fervent hope on college honors plac'd. 

And heart consum'd with hymeneal fires. 
The Muse, constrain'd to undissembled haste, 

Compassionate leaves him to his fond desires. 



FOURTH AGE. 

His gown lies mouldering on the closet shelf, 

And round his knee six rosy cherubs smile ; 
But Fortune, false and fickle-minded elf, 

Hath left Alpheus to ignoble toil. 
That heart, late pilgrim to Idalian strands, 

Whose warmth the' Pierian fountain did assuage ; 
In cold obscurity unnoticed stands, 

Crown'd with the cares of manhood's middle age. 



FIFTH AGE. 

His decent black to shameful tatters worn, 
In homespun gray the rustic student stalks ; 

He knows to calculate the price of corn, 
And gives discourses on the equinox. 

Filled with the forms of Tully's matchless mind, 
His fancy kindled by the Ionian muse, 



206 DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 

Grasps the sweet lyre of old Meonides blind ; 

Its strings still dripping with Castalian dews. 
He tells where Israel's Shepherd graz'd his flock — 

Where Greece advanc'd or Persia's satraps fled ; 
But Themis mantle cannot make a smock, 

Nor Attic lore supply the mouth with bread. 

SIXTH AGE. 

Behold him standing in the vale of years, 

Life's toil and bitterness fast sweeping o'er; 
Behind his path a praiseless blank appears, 

A dark, untried eternity before. 
His hope, excluded from her earliest goal, 

Folded her wings o'er Love's seraphic shrine. 
Oh! want may chill, but purities the soul. 

And sends it suppliant to a power divine, 
Here fully ripen'd to the hand of Time, 

The blighted fruits of youth and age repose; 
Here fades the flower of manhoods sunny prime. 

The myrtle droops, and deadly nightshade grows. 

SEVENTH AGE. 

The last, a little mound bedeck'd with green. 
The babe, the schoolboy, lover, husband, sage. 

Have play'd their parts in life's revolving scene. 
And Death, their ghastly epilogue, clears the stage. 



AFLOAT ON THE SEA. 



Prov. xxiii. 34. 

Asleep on the mast, asleep on the mast, 
Ilock'd on the perilous wings of the blast ; 
Storm on the waters, and darkness on shore, 
Danger around me, and ruin before. 
Shine from thy sky, 
Sweet Star of the East ! 



DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 207 

Beam on mine eye 

And lighten my breast ! 
Shield me, O Lord ! while the tempest is raging ! 
Aid in the strife which the archfiend is waging ! 
Soothe with thy Spirit this tumult within, 
And wash me forever from tarnish of sin ! 

The heavens are brightning 

With phosphorus lightning, 

And over and under 

Resounds the deep thunder, 
Forever affrighting with flashing and din. 
God of the Blest ! 

Let the lamps of thy love 

Beam bright from above, 
And light me to rest. 

Afloat on the sea, afloat on the sea, 
Like a bird from the snare of the fowler set free ; 
We ride on the murmuring wings of the blast, 
With sunshine of morn o'er the smooth waters cast. 
Gaily along. 
With music and song, 
We glide, for the night of our peril is pass'd. 
And soon 'neath a heaven 

That never grows dark, 
In Salem's bright haven 
We'll anchor our bark, 
With the Pilot and Prince of our peace to rejoice. 
In symphonies harp'd to the seraphim's voice. 
Our star hath arisen 

Bright herald of day, 
And shines on the mizzen 
With halcyon ray ; 
While sweet as the mirage of Araby's skies, 
The saphirine walls of the city arise. 
Our streamer unroll'd, 

From the gaff flutters wide, 
With the Cross on its fold, 
As we drift on the tide 
To that beautiful land where delight never dies. 
Where the eye never weeps nor the heart never sighs. 



208 DREAMS OF THE SIESTA. 

AUTUMN. 



The maj)le's wither' d leaflets shed, 
Lie heap'd along the meadow's side ; 

The panzy's summer bloom is fled, 
And violets lose their summer pride, 

The oak tree nods his naked head. 
And all things tell of autumn tide. 

But while to-night in yonder Avest 

Contented that his race is run, 
Like some lone pilgrim to his rest. 

Descends the yellow sandal'd sun; 
Shall evening calm this troubled breast. 

Or morn when night's dark hours are done ? 

The moon may shed her silent beams 

In silver o'er the land of sleep. 
Nor somnolent abstraction seems 

The rare stramonium, that shall steep 
The soul in lethe, for in dreams 

Return the forms for whom we weep. 

No, suns may set, and planets rise, 
And seasons roll their stated round ; 

But memory's deathless soul defies 
The sad mutations strewn around ; 

While the spirit's longing eyes 
In her the lost are found. 



